The Hunt
by The Reviews Lounge
Summary: Several Easter stories, both focussing on a different pairing, to get you in the mood for the holiday. Each chapter will include a hunt. Please R&R.
1. Flaming Pits of Lust

**General Disclaimer: **The Reviews Lounge owns nothing you recognise. We merely borrow JK Rowling's characters for fun, and do not intend to make any profit from them.

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**Flaming Pits of Lust**

_(A Remus/Lily story)_

**By Cuban Sombrero Gal**

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"I hate this," Lily said suddenly, massaging her neck as she jerked her head to the side. "I'm sick of it, just so bloody sick of it _all."_ Her voice rose dramatically in pitch, and Remus, who was curled up on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room beside her, clamped a hand over her mouth.

"You don't want to wake half the house," he laughed, "you know what the annual Easter Quidditch match does to them all."

He shifted slightly to the right, aware of exactly how close they were. Remus' heart thudded on, an eternal drum beating to the rhythm of despair, as he tried so hard to avoid temptation and just lean in.

"Your-and-smelsh-like-choc-wat."

"Chocolate?" Remus removed his hand from her mouth, and lifted it to his nose, inhaling the scent of coffee, sweat and melted chocolate. "It is Easter Saturday, Lily," he said by way of explanation, "you know that day when people become obese celebrating the fact that Jesus died and rose from the dead."

"Technically, it's Easter Sunday," Lily replied, gesturing at the clock, its glowing red numbers throwing eerie shadows onto her milky skin. 1:34 am.

"Technically, you're supposed to be telling me exactly what you're sick of."

"Apart from the fact that I want to throw up from eating too much chocolate, you mean?"

"Apart from that, yes."

It had become routine, these late night conversations, talks about life and philosophy, rants and discussion of Hogwarts' latest couples being thrown around amongst the crumpled parchment as they fruitlessly attempted their homework. Remus couldn't quite define the point in which flirting had become a part of their relationship – exactly what it was, he wasn't entirely sure – but he wasn't going to deny the fact that he enjoyed it. _Enjoyed it a lot._ The subtle glances, the heavy tone of their voices, implying so much more than a gentle understanding, it was everything to him these days.

And then he thought of James, sound asleep in the dormitory amongst the stench of Sirius' socks and the cool night breeze, dreaming of everything Remus was experiencing, and he was nothing more than ashamed.

"I'm sick of _this,_Remus. I'm sick of us sitting here on this couch nearly every night, eating biscuits and pretending that we want nothing more from each other than the answers to the History of Magic homework and an intellectual conversation." Irritably, Lily flipped her bright red tresses over her shoulder, throwing an abandoned chocolate wrapper into the fire and watching the flames devour it.

Remus watched as well, his head resting on her shoulder and his hand on her waist, and he couldn't help but think that this was his future, burning endlessly in the flaming pits of lust that engulfed him.

"You know we can't, Lily," he said gently, sliding his hand away from his waist – it would be hard to stay rational if he could feel her creamy skin under his fingertips – "James would be devastated."

"To hell with James," Lily replied. "What claim does he have to my love?"

"He's James." In Remus' eyes, the answer was clear as crystal. "He loves you."

"No, he's in love with his idea of me," Lily snapped, jumping off the couch in one fluid motion and crossing the room. She flopped onto the ground in front of the fire, staring listlessly into the flames. "He's in love with the fact that I'm his red-haired, green eyed princess. Ask him my favourite food, the first ever career idea I fell in love with, why I like sunrise better than sunset … all he'll be able to do is stutter." She gave Remus an imploring look, urging him to understand, her emerald green eyes boring into his chocolate brown ones, stabbing him with knives as he tried so hard to resist that seductive wink.

Remus couldn't find much fault in her analysis of James, which he found surprising considering how much she _claimed _to abhor him –though everyone could see through that façade except Lily and James themselves.

So instead, he just said, "Roast potatoes, being an English teacher and you think that sunset is full of false hope because it's pretty and then it suddenly disappears into the deep black emptiness that surrounds us all."

"Exactly," Lily said, slamming a clenched fist into the carpet as though to prove her point. "James claims to love me, and yet he knows none of that, and you do."

"He's still my best friend," Remus replied, for that was the irrefutable truth. "I couldn't do it to him."

"Why not? You do _this_ with me?" Lily gestured around the common room, smothered in crumpled chocolate wrappers, broken quills and an air that suggested everything had gone from innocent friendship to confusion and life threatening choices.

"This is – was – friendship. This isn't love Lily, no matter how much we'd both like it to be."

"Kiss me," Lily demanded suddenly, her words were smeared with a reckless tinge. "Kiss me, and then we'll know."

Remus couldn't bring himself to do it, not matter how much he wanted to jump off the platform and drown in that flaming pit of lust that gurgled inside his stomach, ignoring the sirens that beckoned him back to safety. James would hate him, and this may not be friendship anymore, but what he had with James and Sirius and Peter was.

Lily took a step towards him, towering over his contorted body as he lay curled up on the plush red couch.

"Dance with me then," she said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Friends may not kiss, but there's nothing to stop them from dancing. Call it an Easter gift for a special friend, if that helps to ease your conscience at all."

"Fine," Remus grumbled, scrambling off the couch and into her arms. "You owe me."

Really, he knew he shouldn't have done. He should not have encouraged her to act upon these feelings, to lure him and tantalise him and encourage him to drown himself. But her arms were so soft and so warm as they caressed him, and he could smell the remnants of Easter eggs – tonight's substitute for the humble choc-chip biscuits – and he melted into her as they waltzed to the music of their own heartbeats.

"See, Remus," Lily laughed as they tore apart, their emotions sandwiched between their still clasped hands, "it wasn't that bad. Maybe there's a chance."  
"You don't know how many times I've dreamed of that -" he admitted softly, "- not there's a male in this building older than thirteen who hasn't wanted to hold Lily Evans at some stage, because apparently threatening to chop people's bollocks of with a rusty knife is appealing – but I can't Lily, I can't. James -"

"- would have to deal with it." Her tone suggested that her answer was final, but Remus' inner Marauder forced him to fight.

"James may still be the naïve, arrogant, eleven year old boy who insulted you on the train in first year, but he's my best friend, and I can't do it, Lily, I just can't do it."

"Drat you and your bloody sense of propriety."

"Drat you and your bloody seductiveness."

They both collapsed with spasmodic fits of laughter, neither of them registering that it was past two in the morning and that an entire building slumbered on above them. Remus gasped for breathing, knowing that whatever happened, he sure as well wouldn't forget this.

"You really think I'm seductive?" Lily asked, between bursts of laughter that wracked her body. The flaming pit in his stomach seemed to rise slightly, demanding that he fall into it, give it attention, nurture it, but Remus ignored it, focusing on the girl in front of him.

"Yeah." Somehow, that dance had bought them to a gentle understanding, it was never going to work between them, but they didn't have to give up everything. Friendship and romance were entirely different bonds, but they were both as tantalising and as fulfilling.

"But why?" Lily asked. She was far from arrogant – that was a title reserved for a certain other special someone – but she couldn't help but be proud, and a little confused about all the attention that surrounded her, bathing her in praise and gifts.

Remus deliberated for a minute: _why Lily? _As supportive as he was of James' fascination with the petite redhead that he was currently straddling with his legs, he'd never really understood it, nor had he understood his own attraction to her as more than a physical longing for closeness.

"It's your personality," he said finally. "You've got metaphorical bollocks, and incredible wit."

"Metaphorical bollocks," Lily repeated, her words soft as yet another stream of giggles forced their way from her throat. "Better not let James get wind of that one, he'll be asking to see them in a flash."

"He really does mean well."

"I know, it's just so hard, I mean, he's such an arrogant prick, and I normally go for guys more like … more like you."

"You're just saying that so I'll dance with you again, aren't you?" Remus joked, taken aback by the seriousness that flittered across Lily's face. It lasted a minute before she broke out in a grin, pointing her index finger in his direction and allowing her body to be jerked about by laughter, she was a marionette whose strings were controlled by the invisible puppeteer.

"Maybe," she said, unable to hide the truth. "Will you?"

"Of course. How could I deny my fair maiden such a privilege, even if you're not exactly _my _fair maiden and you're a bit too crass to fulfill such a roll anyway? I don't think there's ever been a heroine with such a love of innuendo before." Remus liked this, liked the fact that they could joke and flirt, and that yet, they both knew not to cross the line, but James hovered upon it, ready to blow his umpire's whistle for inappropriate contact.

"_Crass? _I do believe that's Black's territory, and really, I'd hate to intrude."

"Whatever. We all know you're just longing to be a future Marauder."

"So I can have a nickname with as many connotations as _Prongs?" _Lily didn't understand the Marauder's nickname, and neither did the rest of Hogwarts (admittedly dimwitted) population, but some of the rumours flying around …

"Oh, do just shut up and dance," Remus said with an exasperated voice, hoping like hell that she wouldn't dwell on the mystery that was the names Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

"Fine," Lily replied, smiling wistfully at him.

Grinning, she took Remus' outstretched hand, waltzing into the middle of the common room floor.

**--- **

"Get up Moony, come on you lazy sod." Remus groaned, opening his eyes a fraction and immediately clamping them shut again as the sunlight blinded him. Next to him, Sirius was trying to walk Lily, using less polite methods than James and Peter had chosen.

"Sod off Black, you -" There was a muffled thump as Sirius' retort was muffled by a pillow.

"It's nine o'clock," James said, "the annual Easter hunt is on in an hour. We had to put charms on you two so that no-one would prank you while you slept. The whole house grew bored after laughing at Remus' snoring and went down to the Quidditch pitch."

As Remus wrenched apart his eyelids again, he could see James looking curiously between him and Lily, his mind assuming the worst. Wordlessly, he gestured at the pile of abandoned textbooks which overflowed in one of the armchairs by the now dwindling fire, his eyes beseeching James, begging him to understand that nothing had happened. James still looked suspicious, but eventually, he nodded, his messy locks bouncing up and down in time with his head.

"Let's go," he said, "come on Evans."

Remus couldn't help but notice the way he flushed around Lily, the way he chose his words carefully – though he hadn't always been _quite _so sane – and he realised that what James had was the real thing.

And as Lily and James stumbled across the Quidditch pitch, Sirius, Peter and Remus following closely behind, their desire for knowledge and understanding of each other stronger than their desire to find the Easter eggs buried underneath their feet, Remus knew that really, they belonged together. What he had with Lily was no less sincere and tangible, but it was different, and that didn't matter.

The flaming pit of lust that had been bubbling in his chest all night subsided to a trickling stream. 

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**Staff Note: **Welcome to yet another seasonal challenge by the Reviews Lounge. This challenge was developed by Pinky Green, and can be found at our forum for those who are interested. Each chapter will focus upon a different pairing, and include a hunt, usually Easter related.

Thanks,

Lexie, Cuba, and PA.


	2. Surprise Visit

**Surprise Visit**

_(A Lily II/Scorpius story)_

**By mustardgirl1128**

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When Easter Sunday came around and Mum forced us all to the Burrow (I, personally, would rather owl my friends) I wasn't expecting much. Least of all Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy showing up and professing his undying— 

Wait. I'm seriously getting ahead of myself.

Let's just say I wasn't expecting it.

---

"Mum! Where the hell is Sirius?" shouted my brother, Albus. He still lives at home. By Sirius, he's referring to our crazy, erratic owl. He flies off at bad moments, and has other rather idiotic tendencies.

"Ask Dad! Oh—no, ask James, Dad's stressed right now. So am I, actually. Why do you need the damn thing, anyway?"

Albus ignored her. "James! Winky! Kreacher! Has anyone seen Sirius?"

"Shut the _hell_ up, Albus! I'm trying to generate ideas here! Stress? NOT HELPING!" James, my other brother, screamed.

Welcome to the Potter household.

See, my mother, Ginevra Molly Weasley Potter, is a columnist for the Daily Prophet, and she has a Quidditch section. That's more of a demanding job than you'd expect. So she's always majorly stressed out.

Dad is an Auror, single-handedly saving the world from total destruction (okay, okay, he has help…), and so he's not much better. (Oh, and I might want to mention that he's _The _Harry Potter.)

James—meh, James is James. He works at my Uncle Fred's joke shop, called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Even though he's a Potter, not a Weasley, he's one of the leading men. He and Uncle George come up with the plans for new products. Whenever we yell in the house (which is always) James screams right back, "I'M FRIGGIN GAENERATING IDEAS!" or whatever new term he's learned. See, he's twenty…and twenty-year-olds are always loopy.

Albus has already graduated from Hogwarts, like James—two years ago, actually—and he is training to become Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Our new Headmaster, none other than Uncle Percy, (taken over for Minerva McGonagall three years back) makes getting the post a lot harder. It figures. He's rather obnoxious, and he's working Al _extra_ hard because he's his nephew. Unfair? God yes. Anyone care but Al and me? God no.

So Al's not really a happy camper either.

And then there's me. I'm just plain old Lily. Well, no. I'm Lillian Luna Potter, Head Girl, Gryffindor, Biggest Klutz Ever, and Famous for Being Related.

I _hate_ Being Related. I'm Harry Potter's daughter, James and Albus Potter's sister, Hermione and Ron Weasley's niece; the list goes on and on. I want to be known as Lily. I do _not_ want to get whispers for looking _just like The Lily Evans—_Harry Potter's_ own mother! _It's all so obnoxious.

And that, my friends, is why I like Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.

Yes, I said Malfoy.

---

"We're Disapparating! James, c'mon, grab that bag! Let's go! Hut, hut, hut!" Dad said. He was looking harassed. We couldn't Disapparate on our own front lawn—protective spells—and so all three of us kids adored complaining.

"I'm sorry, Harry…this is so chaotic…" Mum said, sidling up to my dad.

"Look away!" I shouted. We were old enough to know the signs…

"Tomorrow, Gin, I am spending _all_ day in bed with you. We have _no_ time for ourselves."

Mum giggled. I looked away quickly, and my brothers did too, looking repulsed. Hey, we might almost be adults, but come on! Parental make-out session? Puh-lease!

James turned quickly and wolf-whistled. I said, "Ooh!"—You know, getting higher and higher—and Albus shouted, "Feeling hot! Hot! Hot!"

Then we hurried out of our backyard and Disapparated…enter the Burrow!

---

When we Apparated on the front lawn, Grandma Molly ran out to meet us. "Lily, you look _so_ lovely! James, darling, I haven't seen you since Tuesday!" And then she absolutely _strangled_ Albus. "You came!" she squealed. "Oh, it's been _so_ long, Albus! I haven't seen you in forever! Is Uncle Percy working you too hard? If he is, just tell me, alright? I can't believe you're so grown-up!"

I swear she was going to pinch his cheeks. "Grandma Mol," Al responded uncomfortably, "it's only been, like, two weeks."

"Exactly." She beamed at him again. "Where are Harry and Ginny?"

"They're making out," James said, as I said,

"Spending Quality Time together," as Albus said,

"Calming their martial urges."

Grandma Molly looked scandalized.

"Fred!" James called, and suddenly it was full-on chaos.

Molly, Lucy, Victoire, Dominique, Louis, Fred, Roxy, Hugo, and Rose ran out of the house, shrieking.

It had been quite awhile since we'd all been together, so immediately we began talking a mile a minute. And we were the only people who weren't relatively calm.

Until Grandma Molly screamed, "Egg Hunt!" and Scorpius Malfoy appeared on the front lawn. And then a zillion things happened at once.

---

Back up a second. Rose was just telling me about her current training as a Healer. I was fascinated. Really, I was! Well, okay, I almost fell asleep, but I was still fascinated!

"So I have, like, a hundred years more to go until…well, I can graduate. And I thought I was done with school…"

"Right. Um, hey, I haven't talked to Dom in awhile…I'm gonna go say hi, 'kay?" Rose nodded calmly and turned to Al.

"So, how's life, Albus?" she asked. Lucky Al. _He_ gets to see the _fun_ Rose!

I looked around. I had seen Dominique recently, actually, and the beautiful blonde was deep in conversation with Fred, Roxanne, and James anyway.

Luckily, I wasn't bored for long. "EGG HUNT FOR THE KIDS!" she screamed. _We_ were the kids, though all of us were older than thirteen, thanks very much.

And a second—literally—after she said that, a pop sounded, and there was Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, clutching flowers, his hands shaking, and holding a painted egg.

All was suddenly quiet. Then a roar went up from my newly-arrived father and my uncle. "What the _hell_ are you doing here, kid? _Get away!_"

"Uncle Ron. Daddy. Chill." And I walked up to Scorpius. "Hey."

"Hey," was his surprisingly calm response. "I brought you flowers—and an egg."

"Wh—an egg? Okay, um, thanks…I think?"

He laughed at the look on my face. "I dyed it myself, you know. Read it."

"It's cold. And so are your hands," I commented, and then I did what he said.

---

Let me give you a bit of background information on me and Scorpius. See, he's always been a friend of mine, but really rather secretly. Well, that is to say I'd never directly told neither my father nor Uncle Ron. Mum knew, and Aunt Hermione knew. And all of my cousins knew.

But they still hated him. He and Al sat together on the train, but when Al was Sorted into Gryffindor and Scorpius Slytherin, they—stopped. Old prejudices, really.

But I was in Slytherin too—no one minded, though everyone was really surprised—and so voila! We were friends.

We talked all the time and we joked around a lot. But that was usually it.

---

Now, though? Scorpius had _flowers_. I mean, _flowers._ Romantic much?  
"Scorp?" I asked tentatively. "Um…is this meant…_romantically?_"

He shrugged and grunted. I laughed, and so he elaborated with a simple: "Your choice."

"Scorpius, come _on,_" I said, annoyed. Why was he being so evasive?

"Look, Lils…" and then I knew what he was going to say.

I thought it over in my head. _Yes_, I thought. _Yes, I'd love to be your girlfriend._

"Yes. Yes, I'd love to be your girlfriend."

He blinked at me. "Um, I was gonna say that I seriously needed help with the Transfiguration essay due next week. I thought it was relative, since it has to do with flowers and eggs."

I blushed scarlet. "Well, you know, I'm indifferent. No or yes. Girlfriend or friend."

"I think…" his voice got very, very low, so that none of my (suspiciously quiet and extremely nosy) family could hear, "I think I'd prefer girlfriend."

I whooped—whoops!—and hugged him. As we stood there embracing, someone began clapping, and then James wolf-whistled and Albus shouted, "Feeling hot! Hot! Hot!"

And I laughed and looked up—and then Scorpius' lips crashed into mine and we were kissing and I almost fainted.

Sorry, horrible run-on. But when your potential soul-mate is snogging you in front of your whole damn family—including your loopy dad and your old-fashioned Grandma Molly—it's hard to form coherent sentences.

---

And that, my friends, is how I became simultaneously a taken woman and an Easter-lover.


	3. A Crown of Flowers

**Crown of Flowers**

_(A Draco/Luna story)_

**By Xephia**

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Draco sat down on a fallen log at the edge of the forbidden forest grumpily, and stretched out his legs, glaring out the crowd across the lake. Students were running about laughing and giggling as they collected chocolate eggs, which had been hidden around the school grounds by the teachers. It had been Madam Promfrys idea to make sure everyone got a bit of easter chocolate before they headed home for the easter break. She thought it especially important while the Dementors were guarding the exits. 

"Are we resting then?" A small, fragile looking girl sat down on the grass at his feet and began peeling the foil off of a small egg, a vacant smile on her lips. Of course, it had been Dumbledor's idea to have them separated into 'teams' of two, no pair containing two members of the same house. Probably one of his daft ideas about inter-house bonding and socializing. Draco scowled. _That man really is thick if he thinks we Slytherins are going to 'bond' with the 'Golden Trio'. _He laughed out loud as he recalled Potter's look of shock horror of being partnered up with Pansy, and wondered how they were getting on, and if Potter was still breathing.

"Here you go Draco." Draco jumped at being addressed by his first name. He had become accustomed to the name 'Malfoy' around any of Potters friends. What surprised him even more, was the fact that this girl was holding out the now unwrapped chocolate egg to Draco, a sincere smile on her thin lips.

"They're half yours, after all," she said, motioning to the small basket. "We're a team."

Draco nodded stiffly, and took the egg. He hadn't expected her to share, considering she had been the one to find them all. Their fingers brushed slightly, and he felt himself shiver.

"Thanks Luna," he said quietly.

They watched in silence as Neville and Padma walked past. Or rather, Padma walked and dragged a contemptuous looking Neville behind her. Luna waved to Neville, but he didn't seem to see her. Padma was muttering under her breath, and Neville looked thoroughly unhappy. When they had gone, Luna stood up again, picking up the basket. "I suppose we better get going," she said happily, holding out her hand to help Draco up. Shunning the offer, Draco pushed himself up, but Luna didn't seem to mind. They continued in the same direction as Neville and Padma, the other pair now out of site.

o0o

"Look, i've found one!" Draco exclaimed, running eagerly over to the edge of the lake. A green egg was trapped in the reeds, bobbing up and down in the water.

Luna looked impressed. It was a large egg, but seemed to have been charmed to take on the color of it's surroundings, making it difficult to spot. "I wonder if there are many like that," said Luna thoughtfully and Draco nodded grimly, knowing that it was quite possible they had passed many of them unknowingly.

Draco snatched the egg up and dropped it into the basket with the rest of Luna's eggs, noticing proudly that it was the largest. It immediately blended in with the assortment of colors.

"Ooh look!" Luna had put the basket down, and was heading quickly away from the lake and back towards the forest. Draco picked up the basket, feeling slightly foolish carrying it, and hurried after her. When he caught up, he found her standing in a small patch of flowers, bending over slightly to admire them.

"Lislacker Lilies," Luna explained, her voice full of awe. "They're very rare, they bloom once a year for a single hour. I've only ever seen pictures."

To Draco they just look liked like multi-colored daisies overgrown with an engorgement charm, but he didn't say anything. He had already worked out that sarcastic comments and snide remarks had no effect on the girl.

Quite suddenly, Luna began to dance. Or at least, Draco assumed that was what she was doing. She was spinning around slowly, making strange gestures with her hands. The lightness of it made her look even more delicate and pretty. Draco cleared his throat and gave himself a strict telling off for that last thought.

"Luna," he said loudly, almost sternly. "What on earth are you doing?"

Luna stopped waving her arms and rotating and smiled at him. "It's good luck to dance around Lislacker Lilies, and if your really lucky the Lislacker pixies might just reward your dancing by appearing themselves. Wouldn't that be amazing?"

Draco gaped at her. He knew she was ridiculous, but he hadn't realized just how much.

"Right," he said awkwardly. "Well, you do your dancing thing then. I'm going to take a nap."

"You don't want to join me?"

Draco scoffed. "Hell no." And before he could see Luna's look of disappointment, he lay down on the grass a few meters from Luna and her flowers. Just a few moments later, Luna began to sing to herself, and Draco rolled his eyes. Why was he putting up with her? He should just march back to castle and demand to be excluded from the silly little game. Or better yet, curse the wrench. He yawned widely. He was much too tired to do either.

She had a nice voice, Draco couldn't help admitting. It was soothing and peaceful. He closed his eyes. He couldn't make out the words to her song, he supposed it was in another language. He wouldn't be surprised if it was a language made up by the Ravenclaw girl herself.

He could smell the grass. It was a smell he actually quite liked, and it reminded him of days he'd lain on his lawn back home to watch the clouds.

His breathing evened out, and quite soon he was asleep, Luna's chanting following him to his dreams.

Draco woke an hour later, and opened his eyes slowly. A pair of wide, bright blue eyes took up his vision, making him start. They were framed by very long, pale lashes, and had a slightly glazed look to them. Luna leaned back, and Draco noticed with embarrassment that she was sitting on his legs, her knees on either side on his outer thighs. A very undesirable position, considering what house she was in.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Luna said brightly. "But I wanted to see what it looked like on you." Draco allowed himself to be confused for a moment, before realizing there was something atop of his head. He reached up a hand, and felt to his horror a ring of interlocked flowers. He yanked it off his head immediately. He tried to stop himself from flushing.

"Luna, how long have I been wearing this?"

"Oh, not long." She smiled. "Do you like it?"

Draco stared at her. Was she serious?

"Men don't wear flower...crowns." He said very seriously, and Luna giggled.

"But you're not exactly a man, Draco. Besides, I thought it really brought out your beauty. But then, that might have been the way you smiled while you slept, some people don't notice it when your scowling." She added softly, and this time Draco really did blush.

She leaned in a little closer, and Draco felt his heart beat a little faster and his face flush a little deeper. _From embarrassment,_ he told himself firmly. _Who'd want to be caught in this situation with Loony Lovegood?_

But that thought was wiped immediately from his mind when she took his hand in hers, and fished the wreath from his fingers. She placed it back on his head, and he made no move to take it off. Her hand were very warm. He licked his lips absently, and seemed to forget how to breath as she drew closer. He could smell the daisies on her skin, and see a speck of chocolate on her lips.

She placed her mouth to his ear, and he could feel her warm breath. Her chest was crushed to his, and her legs tight on his hips as she balanced herself.

"Your not really such a bad person, Draco." Her voice was a whisper in his ear, and remained there even as she began to pull herself away, freeing her hand from his and releasing him from the warmth of her body.

The intensity seemed to end quite abruptly as she rose to her feet and took up the basket, and Draco let out a sharp breath and closed his eyes, trying to discern what had just happened.

"We'd best head back to the castle," Luna said without any trace of awkwardness, and when Draco opened his eyes again she was already skipping away, her loose blond hair trailing behind her.

He hurried to his feet and followed at a brisk walk, the crown of flowers forgotten on his head.


	4. The Ouef and a Kiss

**The _Oeuf _and a Kiss **

_(A George/Angelina story)_

**By WhiskyTangoFoxtrot**

* * *

Oh, she was _not_ supposed to be this bloody nervous . . . 

_Can you die from an acute attack of butterflies bashing around in the guts?_

Angelina Johnson clenched her guts as they squirmed rather painfully.

_Make that _rabid_ butterflies. _

Angelina kept telling herself, "_It's no big deal . . . it's just an Easter Egg Hunt . . . for the children . . . little ankle-biters!_" The hunt was her first big project for Phoenix House, the new Ministry-funded sanctuary for wizarding children left without families and proper homes in the aftermath of the Second War.

Angelina had shocked herself, her family and her friends by turning down an opportunity to try out for Chaser for the Wimbourne Wasps. She couldn't really explain it herself.

_Oh, of course you can, Johnson! Even if you don't want to admit it . . ._

_George . . ._

_You didn't want to leave George, did you?_

"Dammit!" Angelina exclaimed, as she threw the eighth . . . ninth . . . _tenth_ failed outfit onto her bed. She leaned against her closet and let out a breath.

Angelina thought back through the trajectory of her life . . . of hers _and_ George's life . . . over the past couple of years.

They were so connected, after all.

From the time she had walked into the Burrow just after Voldemort's defeat, she had had this feeling, this indescribable _pull_ to see George.

And so she did. . . .

She walked through the door of his bedroom and pulled out from his hands the mirror he'd been staring at . . . the mirror he had been clutching with the five fingers of his left hand and the five fingers of his right hand. His knuckles had turned white, and the mirror was covered in moisture.

Angelina had to close her eyes for one moment. She had never been alone with George when he had cried.

George had always had Fred, after all.

And now . . .

She knelt in front of George, and her breath caught in her throat as she looked at George's face. . . .

_His _face . . .

Furiously shoving her own desire to cry back down into her guts, Angelina reached up to touch the strands of hair covering the right side of George's face. She pushed them back and gently, gingerly, she grazed the space where his ear should've been.

At her touch, he finally met her eyes.

"I see him, Ange." George spoke softly and Angelina leaned forward to better hear him. "I see him when I see me . . . he's everywhere . . . he's no where . . . I don't know where he is . . . don't know where _I_ am . . ."

"_I'm_ here, okay George?" Angelina whispered. "I'm not leaving you. . . ." It was all Angelina could manage to say before George fell off of his bed and crumbled into a trembling mass of sobs.

She had never looked back. After the war . . . after watching Voldemort fall . . . after seeing Fred die and after watching George step back from the edge of madness . . . Quidditch seemed like such a _trifle_.

Helping George find his way out of the darkness when he lost Fred had put things into perspective for Angelina. Thus, six or seven months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Angelina Johnson wrote back to the Wasps, thanked them for their offer and politely declined with nary a regret. She then applied for several service positions within the Ministry, and was surprised when Minister Shacklebolt approached her with a position at his pet project, The Phoenix House.

Of course, just because George had brought out a new, more compassionate Angelina Johnson, George wasn't doing _anything_ to help her find the right outfit for the big event today.

_Give it up Johnson. You've got nothing here!_

_You're not wondering in the least if there was an article of clothing that might get George to notice you . . . are you, Johnson? _

"I'm losing my mind! There's nothing at all in my bloody closet that doesn't scream 'dancing harlot'!" she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

"You're probably right about that, Twinkle-Toes," came a voice from the doorway of her bedroom. "Although, your style of dancing is less harlot, and more whirling dervish!" Angelina jumped up and gave a small yelp in surprise. Ginny Weasley sashayed into the bedroom, one hand on her tummy, the other arm extended, as the girl spun around twice and did an exaggerated cha-cha-cha next to the older, more frazzled girl.

"_Ginny_!" Angelina exclaimed."Don't sneak up a girl like that."

Ginny Weasley shrugged and laughed at Angelina's look of lingering surprise. "Mum wanted me to come over and make sure you didn't need any help."

Angelina shook her head. "No, er . . . I . . . um . . . everything's good, Gin."

Ginny looked around Angelina's bedroom. "Sh-uure . . . _ri_-ight, Angie. It's like Madam Malkin's exploded in here."

Angelina sighed. "Yeah . . . can't really argue with you there." She put her hands on her hips. "I've got all these dance-y, clubby clothes, Ginny, but I've got nothing appropriate for this Easter Egg Hunt."

Ginny cocked her eyebrow. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I showed up." With a flick of her wrist, Ginny brought her wand up and strutted over to Angelina's bed. She picked up a swingy little red number. "Well, maybe if we did a little bit of . . ." and Ginny gave her wand a little wave. The straps on the dress widened just enough to cover a girl's shoulders. The neckline inched up a couple of inches higher . . . just enough to project the desired appearance of modesty.

"Er, it's better, but is blood-red _really _an Easter color?" Angelina asked with a skeptical expression.

"Hmm . . . I don't reckon pink would look good on you, Angelina . . . how about . . ." and with one more flick of her wand, the dress went from a deep scarlet to a brighter, lighter red with a undertone of orange.

It looked like the red of a spring-time sunset.

Angelina couldn't help but be impressed.

"I'll be damned . . . that actually looks rather holiday appropriate," Angelina said, nodding and grinning in satisfaction.

Ginny flashed her a bright smile. "Seven years at Hogwarts and the most useful thing I learned were basic clothing Transfiguration spells." She laughed and sat down on the bed. "You seem really stressed. It's just an Easter Egg Hunt, Angelina. You've done a bang-up job with putting it all together."

Angelina looked over at Ginny, who was making her very uncomfortable with the overly searching gaze she was giving her. "What's that look for, Weasley?"

Ginny set her mouth in a thin line. "It's not often that I see the blunt, straight talking Angelina Johnson in such a tizzy, but, then again, I've noticed that you seem to be getting more and more . . . oh, what's the word . . ." Ginny said, making a big show of looking around for just the right descriptive, "well, _nervous_ . . . _fluttery_ . . . like you're gonna toss your biscuits . . . anytime you _might_ possibly see my precious brother."

Angelina stared at Ginny, a look of shock crossing her face.

"Please," Ginny said, rolling her eyes and smiling, "do you really think I'm _that_ blind? It's as plain as the nose on your face that you fancy George. You've fancied him for a while, and you're too scared to fess up to him."

Angelina's face fell and she plunked herself down on her bed. "Ginny, it's . . . it's . . ."

"It's what?"

"_AARGH_!" Angelina smacked her head with her hands, keeping her face covered. "It's wrong, innit?" she muttered in a muffled voice. "For me to feel like this, right?"

"Why the heck would it be wrong, Angie? You and George deserve some happiness, after all."

"B-but, he's Fred's brother! His _twin_ brother!" Angelina brought her hands down and looked at Ginny desperately.

"Is that the only reason you like him?" Ginny asked with a twinge of suspicion.

"_NO!_ Godric! Bloody hell no . . . I've never, never _ever_ thought of George as Fred's replacement or anything like that! He's always been George . . . George first and foremost."

"So what's the problem then?" Ginny sat besides the older, troubled girl.

"It's . . . people've already made comments to me about us, y'know? My own mum and dad keep asking me, 'But is it healthy for you?' or, 'There are other men out there, Angelina . . .' and I know they all mean that there are other men that don't look a helluva lot like Fred, but . . ." Angelina trailed off.

Ginny licked at her lips and addressed Angelina. "Why don't you just say what it is that you like about George? Tell me. Practice on me . . ."

Angelina blinked for a long time. With a deep and slow intake of breath, she let the words roll off of her tongue. "George looks me in the eyes whenever we're talking; he's always done that, y'know. And his face remains so calm, so _straight_ when he listens to me . . . it's like he's not thinking of any funny comment or sarcastic line . . . I've noticed that he has this way of looking at someone, whether its me or you or one of his brothers, like he wants to understand what you're saying. Yeah, he's got that same wit . . . that same sense of humor as Fred and he'll make his jokes but he'll always temper it with something nice or sweet about you . . . and you know he's been listening and watching you this whole time and just wanting to say something and he'll blush and stammer and ramble and it's never really organized . . . and I love his laugh, Ginny. He laughs in these loud barks and his whole body shakes and jumps every time he does it and when he giggles or snickers about something, it's smooth and full and filling, y'know? It's like . . . really good, rich milk chocolate . . . something that makes you feel good from the inside because it's sweet and pure and it's just so, so . . . so _warm _and so bloody _good_ . . . and I miss it when he's not around, and I find myself trying to copy the way he sounds so it seems like he's near . . ."

"You realize that now you're the one rambling, right?" Ginny gently interrupted. Angelina looked at her and bit her lip.

"Am I insulting his memory — _Fred's _memory — if I try to start something with George? I shouldn't . . . I _can't_. . . ."

Ginny shook her head. "Love ain't Quidditch, Angelina. There's no rules about what's right or wrong. You just _feel_ it, right?" Ginny put her hand on the older girl's shoulder. "If George — and just George — is what makes you happy, then you _should_ let it just _be_ . . . It's been two years for the both of you, and I don't think there's a one of us that doesn't owe you a debt of thanks for helping him find himself again after the war."

Angelina neither moved nor gave any indication to acknowledge Ginny's sentiment; instead her gaze shifted to the floor.

Ginny gave her a quick pat on the back. "C'mon then. Let's get ready for the festivities today!"

**--------------------------**

Angelina had just slid down the side of the Burrow and shut her eyes. Apparently, she hadn't counted on three hours of running after the children participating in the Easter Egg Hunt itself, nor had she realized just how tiring it was to be the sole coordinator and person responsible for the entire event.

And the day ended up being so . . . so . . . _hot_! Angelina was definitely now suffering from an excess of feminine "sparkling," as her mum had once so delicately put it. . . .

Meaning she was sweating like a sow.

Right now, she was fine letting Mrs. Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Ginny handle the children. The children who were screaming, running around, having the greatest time . . .

"_Oi_ . . . sleepy-head. Wakey-wakey!" came a voice from above.

Angelina's eyes flew open and she was startled by the sight of a brightly-colored egg less than an inch from her face.

"_Wha' tha_?!" she started. Looking up, she saw the smiling face of George Weasley.

"Bloody hell, Weasley! At least now I get where your sneaky little sister got her stealth from . . . both you and her need to get out of this annoying habit of sneaking up on me unawares."

"Oh, c'mon Angie," George said as he slid down the side of his house to sit beside her, "it's merely the element of surprise! Plus, I come bearing gifts." Flashing her a charming, lop-sided grin, George offered her the egg.

Angelina felt her face grow warm and she prayed that her blush would go unnoticed. Very pointedly _not _looking at George, she took the palm-sized object into her hands. On the egg, Angelina saw what looked like a picture of a pastoral setting, with the sun rising and shining upon a green and grassy field and trees blowing in a gentle breeze. Angelina watched, utterly mesmerized, as the sun drifted behind the trees and the rolling hills. The light retreated from the green field and the bright blue sky on the egg was replaced by a deep, dark blue with twinkling stars dotting the night in small bursts.

Without a doubt, it was the most magical, the most beautiful thing Angelina had ever seen.

"Fleur gave one to each member of the Weasley family and Ron and I are looking into adapting this idea for our shop." George put his hand behind the egg and leaned in closer to Angelina. "This is called a _Jour-à-Nuit Oeuf_. Which, in Fleur-speak, means 'Day-to-Night Egg'."

"Sounds prettier in Fleur-speak," Angelina said in a whispery voice; she was completely entranced by the _Oeuf_.

"Fleur said the _Oeuf_ is a tradition within the old French wizarding families. When a loved one dies, each family member is presented with this," George gestured to the egg, "after some time has passed. Fleur said that, usually, the family is given the _Oeuf_ around a year after the death of the family member. It has a couple of meanings . . ."

"Time passes and a new day begins?" Angelina said, turning to face George.

George nodded slowly and smiled at her. "Fleur said it symbolizes the continuation of life . . . well, as much as it can, cycling through the same image over and over and over . . ."

Angelina shook her head. "No . . . not the same day. It looks like the _Oeuf_ does show a new day. I mean, look here . . ." Angelina pointed at a tiny flock of birds flying in the daytime sky. "I didn't see those birds before."

"Blimey! You're right," George said in breathless amazement. "I never noticed that before, Angie."

Angelina nudged him with her arm. "See? What would you do without me, eh?"

To her surprise, George's smile melted into a softer expression and he regarded her with a gentle expression.

Angelina poured all of her energy into focusing _solely _on the _Oeuf_ . . . not on George.

If George continued to look at her, and if Angelina continued to look at him, she was sure she'd do something rather stupid.

Like kiss him . . .

So, instead, Angelina handed the _Oeuf _back to George and leaned her head back on the side of the house. She rolled her head over toward her friend. "Y'know what Easter means to Muggles?"

George looked at her, his own head reclined against the side of his family's home. "Nope. Enlighten me."

"It's a religious holiday for Muggles, not necessarily for _all _Muggles, but for a large number of them. It's a celebration of rebirth, of new life, of spring and nature."

"Really?" George said in a languorous, but contented tone.

Angelina nodded, continuing to look at George and smiling. "It's about resurrection . . . giving life to something that was once thought to have died . . ." Angelina trailed off, worried that she had said something inappropriate.

"It makes sense, then," said George.

Angelina was relieved that she hadn't offended George . . . but was now a bit confused. "What do you mean?"

George shrugged and smiled at her. "Dunno. It's felt like I've just been wandering around, feeling empty . . . incomplete . . . and I'm not just talking about my ear," he said, gesturing to the right side of his face. Angelina couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm better now, Angie. I feel like . . . like I'm alive again. Like," George halted and coughed awkwardly. "L-like I'm _me." _

Angelina's smile grew even wider. "I'll sound like a total sap, but I couldn't be happier, George."

George smirked at her. "You're right . . . you _do _sound like a sap."

Angelina elbowed him. "Oh, shut it, Weasley!"

"So many have tried, Johnson. But so many have failed," came his reply. Angelina watched as something flashed across George's face. His expression lost that cheekiness that had been present earlier, and Angelina watched as his eyes, his face fell into a serious expression.

He looked at her . . .

He leaned forward . . .

And Angelina, anticipating what he was going to do, leaned toward him as well . . .

And George lifted his head just a tiny bit and touched his lips to her forehead.

Holding in a sigh of disappointment that he hadn't been aiming for her mouth, Angelina closed her eyes, letting the sweet sensation fall on her, the waves of tingles rolling down her spine. . . .

"_ANGIE_! _ANGIE_!"

Angelina and George broke apart, surprised at the squealing, giggling sounds of two children running toward them, their baskets filled with a variety of magical sweets and painted eggs.

"Lookit wha' we go- . . ." a little boy said, his face twisting into a grimace. "_EWWW! _You let him kiss you! _Cooties! Cooties!_"

Robbie Teppins, George and I are very good friends, I'll have you know," Angelina spoke in a gently indignant tone, meant to set the child straight.

"Yeah . . . and anyway," George piped up brightly, "what makes you think _I'm _the one giving Angie cooties?"

Angelina smacked George in the chest. "George! Don't encourage them."

George laughed as he rubbed his body. "Well, it's true. It's sex-based discrimination, is what it is!"

"Wha's sex-based discrimin-i-did-dation, Angie?" a little girl asked her.

Angelina groaned. "Dorothy, it'll take forever to explain that to you. Just say that all women are superior to men. Blokes would never get anything done without us."

"I'm definitely not gonna argue with that," George replied and winked at Angelina. He gestured with his head. "C'mon, Angie. Wanna go check up on everything? We can snag some Choco-Bunnies before they hop away . . . _literally_!"

Angelina smiled at him. "Absolutely." She stood up too quickly and wavered a slight bit. A small breath escaped her as she felt George's arms circle around her waist . . . steadying her . . . almost embracing her.

Their eyes met.

A moment passed between them.

A single moment . . . and Angelina felt something shift, something change between her and George.

Swallowing, not wanting to break from this moment, Angelina took a breath. "Come with me? George?"

George nodded, never once breaking away from her gaze. "Always, Angelina. Always.


	5. The Hunt for the Nargle Egg

**The Hunt for the Nargle Egg**

_(A Neville/Luna story) _  
**By Sadie's Sweet Padfoot **

* * *

Why is it that the very things I'm always looking for tend to be right under my nose? Okay, so it's not like I'm a particularly absentminded person, but neither am I very perceptive or smart. I never really knew how important some things were to me, and how terrible I'd feel if I lost them. At least that's beginning to change now. All thanks to a rock…and Luna Lovegood. 

Let me explain.

This year, for Easter, for the first time since I began at Hogwarts, I had to stay at school. Basically, Gran's sister, my Great Aunt Arlene, had made her house explode. Seeing as my Gran knows a bit more about handling reconstructive spells than anyone I know, she had a job fixing Arlene's house in Ireland, and she suggested that I stay as far away from the wrecked house as possible. I suppose I take after Arlene. She's not the best with a wand in hand either.

Anyhow, almost everyone I knew went home for Easter this year. Normally, being eighteen and of age, I would be out of school altogether by now. But the new Ministry, after we finally defeated the Death Eaters at Hogwarts, ruled that the whole year of 'lessons' had been illegitimate, so everyone was still here, repeating the year they'd been in last year. That would make me a seventh year.

But for Easter break, Gryffindor Tower was pretty much deserted. I could've very well gone home by myself, but without Gran there, and seeing as she still kept her house under total lockdown after last year, there would basically be no point. So here I was, sitting in the common room on Easter Sunday, reading some holiday cards my admirers had written me as a season's greeting.

No, I'm not being a snob. I really do have many female fans now, after refusing to join the Death Eaters, leading an underground revolt last year at school, and not to mention, beheading that huge snake to help the anti-Voldemort effort. But it gets rather embarrassing. I really couldn't tell you how Harry Potter put up with it all for these past eight years.

Anyways, back to the common room. I'm sitting there, and I hear the Fat Lady asking a password of someone standing outside the tunnel, waiting to get in.

"Password?"

"I'm not a Gryffindor, but I would like to see Neville Longbottom, please."

I immediately recognized the airy, light voice from the other side of the portrait. Luna Lovegood. Repeating her sixth year this spring, Luna had been a key ally of mine up until she was taken off the Hogwarts Express at Christmas. She was the second person the Room of Requirement made a hammock for, after me. Alecto Carrow was hunting her down for her 'punishment' after she refused to perform the Cruciatus Curse on a third year who failed a quiz.

"I beg your pardon? Do I look like a waitress?" the Fat Lady protested.

"No—"

I got up and quickly got to the door to see what Luna wanted. Swinging the portrait open, I looked at the Fat Lady. "It's alright, she's a friend," I said.

Luna's ever-present smile grew wider. "Hello, Neville."

I was always uncomfortable around Luna up to that point. I could never quite put my finger on why I suddenly was so thankful she was standing here. Evidently, she was staying in the castle for the holiday as well. Her eyes were wide and hopeful, which wasn't too different from the usual. She'd loosely braided her long blonde hair and was wearing a light purple frock that fell over her in an odd shape. There was no reason to wear school robes on a holiday.

"Hello, Luna," I said. "You here for Easter too?"

Luna nodded. "My dad has gone to Uruguay for the week to see if he can spot a rare kind of Crumple-Horned Snorkack. They say South American Scorkacks have bright yellow horns. Anyways, he doesn't want me home alone, even though I'm seventeen."

I nodded understandingly. Even though we all knew Voldemort was gone, many of us who'd fought couldn't help but be anxious for a while afterward. Rumors were Seamus' mum still had protective charms over her house.

"Well, do you want to go down to the Great Hall for a game of Exploding Snap?" I offered. Luna shook her head.

"It's Easter, and it's very warm out. I thought we could go hunt Nargle eggs in the bushes on the edge of the forest," Luna said.

Nargles. I still didn't know what they were, but from the way Luna sounded, their eggs could've held the Elixir of Life inside.

"Nargle eggs?" I asked cautiously.

Luna grinned. "Easter Sunday is always the peak of their laying season, and my dad always says that if you should find a Nargle's egg, you gain a small bit of wisdom you'd never had before. Dad caught one once, before I was born, but he said he lost it while playing with the gnomes in our garden. One of them stole it. Too bad, too."

I couldn't help but smirk skeptically.

"So, want to join me? I brought a picnic lunch. Winky packed for two."

I considered my options. Either wander out into the Forbidden Forest looking for nonexistent Nargles and their knowledge-bearing eggs with Loony Luna Lovegood, or sit in Gryffindor tower working on a potions essay (two scrolls on the variations of talent-enhancing elixirs). There really wasn't much of a choice as far as I could see. My Herbology homework was already finished. So I decided to follow Luna and her odd sense of optimism into the forest to hunt Nargle eggs and the wisdom they brought.

**---**

The mid-morning day was already quite warm as Luna, armed with picnic basket and a smaller pink wicker basket, led me into the forest. She didn't go far in before beginning to stoop down and peek under various types of bush. I just stood still and stared at her as she repetitively looked, dug, flipped her hair out of her face, and repeated. This went on for a good hour before I decided to say anything. It was a curious enough sight as it was.

"Um…what about looking in a rabbit hole?" I suggested. Hey, I WAS trying to play along, after all!

Luna stopped what she was doing and stared blankly up at me, before smiling that unique smile of hers and giggling to herself.

"Silly! Rabbits don't lay eggs!" Luna said.

I growled under my breath in annoyance, something I rarely did before last year. I felt myself being flashed back to the four days it was just her and I before Ginny and Dean showed up in the Room of Requirement on the fifth day. She would keep me up late at night talking about her assorted fictional creatures, and by day she'd be off in her own little world, wondering how Harry, Ron, Hermione, and her father were. Mostly she would just be talking to herself then, however.

I reached into the picnic basket at Luna's feet as she dug under a large mistletoe bush. Winky had packed several sandwiches. I took one that appeared to be turkey and cucumber and bit into it.

But no sooner did I take a second bite when I heard Luna squeal with a strange sound. I spat out the bit of sandwich and leapt back in surprise. Luna jumped up looking ready to have a heart attack. She held what looked like a grayish-violet rock in her palm.

"I….I never thought it possible, but…I…." Luna began saying, tears welling up in her eyes.

"What, that you'd find a rock?" I asked sarcastically.

Luna didn't look too offended. "This is a Nargle's egg, Neville. I already feel the wisdom surging through me! Oh, Dad will be so proud and excited! And we've only been out here an hour!"

"Luna, listen, it's a rock," I said calmly. But Luna seemed to be in denial.

"But this is EXACTLY the shade of color, and shape, feeling, of a Nargle egg!" Luna expressed, not listening to me.

I rolled my eyes. "If you brought me out here to go rock-hunting, then maybe I should just—"

"—NO! You have to stay!" Luna said quickly, stopping me from turning on my heel and heading back up to the castle.

"Why?"

"You need to find one now. It would be unbalanced if you didn't find your little piece of wisdom too," Luna said.

I looked at her. Her optimistic eyes looked right into mine, and I felt even more uncomfortable. She really wanted me to dig through bushes looking for a rock? Oh, excuse me, a Nargle egg?

"Please?" Luna asked. I figured I DID have nothing better to do with my day until the rest of the DA got back from Easter vacation. And I was in no position to give up an afternoon with a friend, eccentric as she was.

Luna extended her hand to where a whole grove of mistletoe bushes were. There had to be thirty or so bushes. I cringed. This was going to be a long afternoon.

After another hour digging through mistletoe with Luna looking down at me, watching my progress, my patience was beginning to dwindle. I realized, if Luna thought a rock was a Nargle egg, then why hadn't I thought about just presenting Luna with another rock an hour ago?

The first rock as big as Luna's was under the next mistletoe bush I found. Scooping it up, I mimicked Luna' excitement and exclaimed that I'd found one. I held it up and let Luna hold it. She looked at it skeptically. She weighed it in her hands and studied it like a Healer would study a patient.

She shook her head disapprovingly and handed the rock right back to me. "No, Neville. I'm sorry but this is clearly a simple rock. But it's not your fault, the two can be very hard to dissimilate."

I couldn't believe it. Luna pulled out her 'Nargle egg' and held it side-by-side with mine. The two looked identical, and I couldn't believe it. I was about to lose my nerve.

"Luna, I'm going back up to the castle. I can't stand this madness anymore!" I exclaimed (rather forcefully, too, I might add).

Luna actually looked hurt. I rarely saw her actually bothered by another person's opinion.

"But Neville, when you find an egg—"

"—Luna, could you PLEASE, from now on, keep your Nargle nonsense to yourself and leave me alone?!" I shouted (I was even surprising myself). "I've had enough! These are BOTH rocks! Nargles and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks DON'T exist! Leave me ALONE!" I said, turning away and storming back up to the castle.

Now I wasn't quite sure, but I could've sworn I'd heard the sound of a small, airy grunt and the sound of two moderate-sized rocks being thrown into a mistletoe bush.

**---**

Later that evening, the guilt of how hard I was on Luna sunk in. I sat in the library thumbing through a few of the self-updating history books at the picture of myself and Padma Patil on one of the last pages. The caption underneath read: _'Neville Longbottom (left) and __Padma __Patil__ two members of the __Hogwarts __student rebellion group "Dumbledore's Army." Longbottom would also vanquish __Nagini__, the right-hand snake of Voldemort.'_

I normally didn't like looking at that chapter. It made me feel conceited. But nothing else would get my mind off the terrible thing I'd said to Luna. I really felt bad.

Luna had a picture on the next page with her father. The caption read: _'__Xenophilius__Lovegood__ (left, pictured with his daughter Luna) was the editor of THE QUIBBLER, one of the few magazines the Death Eater's Ministry didn't control. Luna would be captured later, urging __Lovegood__ to turn over Harry Potter in exchange for her safety.'_

I sighed and felt my chest grow a little heavier.

Suddenly, I heard a voice from a few rows over begin to speak harshly.

"Loony! Loony Lovegood!" the female voice taunted. My ears perked up and I turned around to see the back of Pansy Parkinson's head. She has on her school robes, and another Slytherin girl with frizzy black hair stood near her. "You're done looking for Snarkle nests?"

Luna's voice (which had been echoing in my ear all afternoon) didn't sound much weaker than usual. Luna was always a lot stronger than she seemed on the outside.

"Pansy, could you let me through? I'm looking for—"

"—Loony Lovegood wants a book!" Pansy's friend mocked in a baby voice. "Sawwy, wittle Wuna Wuvgood! The Flibbery Dumdinger books are in the wittle-kid libwawy!"

As I stood up and attempted to get a closer look, I saw that Luna was a little flustered. She saw me and grew a little redder. Evidentially, she decided to turn around and go back to Ravenclaw Tower.

Pansy called cruelly after her. "She's too scared to even put up a fight! Dumbledore Army FOREVER!" she mocked.

That was it. Poor Luna looked so sad, and Pansy had no right insulting her OR Dumbledore's Army. My heart sank seeing her so sad.

"Shut up, Parkinson," I said bravely. Pansy and her accomplice spun on their heels to face me. Luna halted, but didn't turn. "Funny mentioning the DA in such a negative way. How long did YOU stay and fight?"

Pansy looked quiet. The black-haired girl knitted her eyebrows.

"That's right, by the time Luna was producing Patronuses that were saving Harry Potter from dementors and dueling Bellatrix Lestrange, you were halfway out of Hogsmeade, looking after your own ass!" I sad, almost surprised I'd sworn like that.

Pansy's pug like face scrunched in even more. "You oaf," she muttered.

"_LUNA_ Lovegood has more courage in one finger than you would if you multiplied yourself fifteen times over," I said. "So I really wouldn't be saying ANYTHING about her if I were you."

Pansy and her friend looked beyond pissed, so I walked briskly around them and walked quickly over to Luna. She turned to face me. Her eyes were puffy. But she still looked…dare I say it…pretty?

"Can we talk?" I asked.

Luna smiled. "Of course, Neville."

She took my hand and walked with me out into the hall. Pansy and her friend sounded like they weren't planning to be defeated without a fight.

"Come on out, Longbottom? Running away?" called Pansy. Luna looked in front of us while I looked behind, and she pointed to an opening door ahead of her.

"The Room of Requirement's opening for us, Neville!" she said, dragging me along. The next few seconds seemed to pass in an instant, and I can barely remember them myself, but Luna opened the door, and by the time we were in the all-too-familiar room, the door had been shut, and there was no way Pansy or her friend could get in. I could hear her trying to break in using bombarding spells, but they didn't seem to work.

Luna turned away from me and wandered further into the room. I followed her. "What is it?"

"A real one," she said, pointing to an object sitting on a small table in the center of the room. I looked at the genuine Nargle's egg. It did look a bit like Luna's rock. But I felt something when I looked at it, and I knew this was really true.

"Pick it up, Neville, this little piece of wisdom's for you," Luna said selflessly, gesturing to the egg.

I hesitated and looked at her instead. Luna's red eyes didn't disguise her smile and her evident feelings for me and how I'd stood up to that Pansy Parkinson just for her.

I didn't walk towards the table with the egg. Instead, I walked towards Luna and took her in my arms. Luna embraced me back, not as surprised as I thought she'd be.

"I think I already have my little bit of wisdom, Luna," I said.

Okay, it sounds very campy, but it's true just the same. I didn't need a Nargle's egg to realize I cared for Luna as she cared for me. Hopefully, I would never forget that, and to date, I haven't.

After I broke our embrace apart, Luna looked up at me, glowing. I felt my stomach rumble realizing that I hadn't eaten since that sandwich in Winky's picnic basket.

"I'm hungry…is there any way we can turn this Nargle egg into an omelet?" I asked.

Luna giggled.


	6. The Secret Love Hunt

**The Secret Love Hunt**

_(A Remus/Sirius story)_

**By Pinky Green**

* * *

_**The Easter Hogwarts Love Quiz (Be honest: no-one will know who you are)**_

**Name 10 people at Hogwarts (in any order):**

Sirius cautiously wrote down:

**1. Lily Evans**

**2. James Potter**

**3. Remus Lupin**

**4. Narcissa Black**

**5. Marlene McKinnon**

**6. Peter Pettigrew**

**7. Bellatrix Black**

**8. Minerva McGonagall**

**9. Severus Snape**

**10. Moaning Myrtle **

**Questions**

**1. Do you find that Ten/Five are a good couple?**

chokes What? Marly and Myrtle? Their names might be similar but I doubt they'll get along together. Honestly. Besides, she's _dead_. I mean, she's a ghost.

**2. Do you think three is hot? How hot?**

Very hot. Beautiful even. In other words, sexy.

**3. What would happen if six got one pregnant?**

ARGH! Jamesy-boy would go TOTALLY bonkers. And thrash Peter. Prank him 17 times a day, 8 days a week, 53 weeks in a year, 11 years in a decade, 101 years in a century. I'm aware that I'm adding one to the actual answers, but really, when it comes to James and Lily, you've gotta exaggerate.

**4. Would seven and two make a good couple?**

If James was Rodolphus Lestrange yeah. But James as James and Bella as Bella, uh, I'd rather pin myself to a dart board. Actually, I wouldn't. I'd scream "Traitor" and then fart in his face. grimaces Sorry.

**5. Who would you rather be romantically linked to, out of all the people your own sex?**

My own sex?...What? Do you mean people who enjoy the same type of thingie as me, or…oh okay! You're talking genders right? Three, of course. Just don't tell anyone, whoever my quiz is going to!

**6. What would happen if seven discovered three and eight in a secret relationship?**

She would spread rumours about Minnie cradle-snatching. Is that called cradle-snatching? I think it is.

**7. Who are you closer to, 10 or 3?**

Uh, hello? You know who I am? Hm…well…it's either a _dead_ person or my best friend! I think I'll choose Remmy.

**8. What would you send number 4 for Valentine's Day?**

A Heart shaped Dungbomb! Haha!

**9. Who's body would you rather be in, one or five?**

Well, it wouldn't exactly be fun if your best friend was asking you out every second of the day, so I think I'd rather be in Mar-Mar's body.

**10. If you were writing a story, about four seducing one, what would the plot be?**

They were both drunk and out of their wits, and in the end they rot in hell. Don't tell James I said that though. He'd never forgive me. He thinks she's an angel from the heavens and above.

**11. Does any of your friends dream of number seven het? What about nine slash?**

Nope, if they are I'm gonna kick their asses.

**12. If you couldn't find your way round a place, who would you ask for advice?**

Remus, probably, I mean three. He's good at that kind of thing.

**13. If you wear watching a two/three/six film, what would the warning be?**

WARNING: MARAUDERS' LOVE, NOT EXCITING WITHOUT ME! Woops, I think I've given myself away now.

**14. What pick-up line might eight use on five?**

"Miss McKinnon," in a snotty voice. "I'd like you to meet me in my quarters at 10pm. You know where it is. Be there."

Oh god, for crying out loud, now I'm crying out loud with laughter.

**16. Who would you wear a mini-skirt for?**

All of them 'cept 4, 7, 8 & 9.

**---**

**2 Days Later ...  
**

"Padfoot wake up!" James hit Sirius on the back.

"Alright, alright, hold your broomsticks!" Sirius got up, only in his boxers.

James looked at him quizzically, "What? I'm not holding my broomstick."

Peter giggled, "Look! Sirius is in his love hearts boxers."

Sirius cringed. "Shut up Peter! I was waiting for someone other than you to notice."

_Preferable Remus_, Sirius grinned to himself.

Sirius hit under his covers.

"Padfoot! Look at Wizard Weekly!" James' voice boomed again.

"FINE!" Sirius snatched the newspaper from James' hand and read it aloud:

"_**A Date For Two"**_

_**By Nikki Skeeter**_

"_As you might've guessed, today is the day we announce the couples for"__The Easter Hogwarts Love Quiz"; each couple will go in a broom closet for their date, and in the morning we'll see how they did. Who will be the couples? Find out, after the weather."_

"What?" Sirius shouted. "The couples got delayed by WEATHER? And also, the date is in a _broom closet_?! I mean really, I thought at least _Wizard Weekly_ could do better than eggs…………………………"

_"The first couple are…#666 and #999!...#45 & #81..."_

James looked over at his number, which was written on a small piece of paper, like those on a raffle ticket and he frowned. "I'm #1234. Hope it comes soon."

"And I'm #1." Peter sobbed. He squeaked, "Shouldn't #1 at least go first?"

Sirius squealed, "Oh my days, in Merlin's-Sunday-Lovehearts-Pants-which-Mrs-Merlin-sometimes-bleach-white, I'm #666! I'm going to find #999 now."

**---**

Sirius asked Marlene, "Are you #999?"

"No, Black. Are you #667?"

"No, I'm #666."

"Well then, that lights up my day."

"Grr…shut up Mar-Mar…"

**---**

"Are you #999?" Sirius asked a 4th year Slytherin girl.

"Wish I was."

Sirius wiggled his eyebrows. "Really?"

"No."

**---**

"Are you #999?"

"God Padfoot, it's Prongs! I told you I'm #1234 you idiot."

"Oh. Are you sure, you're not actually a girl, Prongs?"

"I'm sure. You want to see my private?"

"Ew, how could you say that?"

"Good, now go excuse me, Mary told me Lily was #347."

"So?"

"So, #347 is my date!"

"Fine, you-"

"Shut up Pads."

"Okay."

**---**

"Cissy, you #999?"

"And why would I tell you?"

"Just checking, I wouldn't ever want to go out with you, Crabby Cis. That's why."

**---**

Sirius panicked, as he ran to the Gryffindor Table at lunch; he found James sitting with Lily. They were actually getting along well.

"Sorry, Lilykins."

"It's okay. It's just a bit of mayo," Lily smiled.

Marlene snorted and whispered under her breath, "Yeah, as if; you scream at me every time _I_ spill mayo on your top."

Sirius sat down next to Marlene, depressed.

Lily looked over at him. "Hey Black, or well Sirius, what's the matter?"

Sirius blushed at all of their presence and shook his head.

"No seriously Pads, how's your heart?"

_Pff. The only reason why Prongs is being all 'I'm a really sensitive person who values his friends' is because Evans is here, _Sirius thought, a little grimly.

Sirius said, in a low voice, "I've just found out my date…is a guy."

Marlene snorted with laughter. "You've made so many pranks in the past, Black, I know them inside out. And this 'joke' is really a cracker!"

"No really, I'm being serious," Sirius said in his try-hard serious look. Which failed a little, because he normally didn't look serious.

Marlene rolled her eyes, "Well of _course_ you're Sirius. That's your bloody name for god's sakes."

Lily hit Marlene lightly on the head. "Marly, he's saying that he's being serious. S-E-R-I-O-U-S. But I've got to be honest, Sirius, I just cannot believe you."

"Yeah, what happened, mate?" James said, looking at Lily at the corner of his eye.

Sirius blushed once more. "Well, it's just…I went all around asking every single 4th-7th year girls– as you know, 1st-3rd years aren't aloud to participate- and every one of them told me they weren't the number I asked them."

"Which is?" Lily asked, looking at her little number, which was pinned to her chest. There was not much point, seeing as she'd already found her date.

"#999!"

"Oh, are you asking for help Sirius?" Peter squeaked, as he sat next to Sirius, and took out shyly grabbed an apple before anyone saw; he didn't want them to be aware he was on one of his Slimming Diets again. He blushed a little.

"Long story," Peter looked a little upset when Sirius said that.

Peter mumbled, "Why can't anyone tell me long stories?"

James joked, "Because Wormtail. You fall asleep halfway through the story."

Peter flushed, as Marlene and Lily stifled a laugh.

"People!" Sirius shouted. "Can you think about ME for one second? My date is a GUY!"

"Oh," Marlene pouted. "Poor ickle Sirius."

"Shut up Mar-Mar," Sirius glared at Marlene.

Peter squeaked happily, "Well then! That definitely states you are gay." But soon shut up when Sirius shot him an evil. Peter was only trying to fit in.

Remus slowly froze, as he sat himself down.

"What's up with you then, Moony?" Sirius grinned.

"I…I…" inside he was thinking, _My date could actually be Sirius! Think about it, Sirius!_

Peter sighed and squeaked, "Let me guess. Your date is a guy?"

James laughed, "Peter, you don't even know what _Let Me Guess _means, do you?"

Peter blushed and nodded. _What? I've heard other people say that. _

"Don't tease him so James," Lily chuckled.

Remus said in a quiet voice, "My date is a guy."

Sirius was the only one who'd heard him, and he too, froze. He looked at Remus. #999.

Help.

He was going on a date with his lover.

Oh, burn.

**---**

Sirius sat in the broom cupboard, with who he knew, Remus opposite him. Shame I can't say vice versa here.

"Hey," Remus recognised that voice. It was familiar. Very very familiar.

"Hullo."

"Why are you saying hullo."

"Okay fine, hello," Remus thought this was rather awkward.

Sirius said, in his most Peter-like voice, squeaking, "Hey Remus. It's me."

Remus really thought he was about to gag. Peter? His date? Nonetheless, he said in a generous voice, "Oh. It's you, Peter. Um…don't you think we should get out of here?"

Sirius burst out laughing. Remus was confused, "Sirius?"

"Yeah…it's…me!" Sirius said in between fits of laughter.

Talk about embarassment. This was Remus' lover. Sirius. "I think we'd better get out of here," Remus said, taking his blind-fold off, and sighing. "This is just ridiculous."

_He thinks I'm ridiculous_, Sirius thought, upset. _Ridiculous._

Sirius, too took his blind-fold off and sighing. "Remus. Promise me something."

_He's letting me in on a secret!_

"Okay…"

_He seems really reluctant to know. _Sirius thought.

He coughed and whispered, "Remus, ever since I've met you…"

_I've hated you? I've loathed you? I've wanted to meet the meep of out you? I've-_ Remus thought.

"…I've loved you."

_Oh god, he's probably going to gag now, _Sirius panicked.

"I," Remus admitted. "I've loved you too."

"You always told me that there are beautiful people in the world, who see past the obvious, and who think all people are equal, whether a gay, lesbian or heterosexual," Sirius said, a tear dripping down his eye. "And I've been thinking. We are the beautiful people."

Remus chuckled, "That's right. You can't take a hint."

"What? You knew we were the beautiful people?" Remus nodded.

Sirius laughed, "Where were we, with our date?"

"I dunno…"

"Shall we kiss?" Sirius said, awkwardly.

"Okay?"

…

"Mmm…"

"Moony, that's my butt."

"Hm?"

"Moony, that's my butt," Sirius repeated again.

"I'm not touching your butt."

A little squeaky voice appeared, "Sorry Sirius. I'm looking for beautiful people. D'you know where I could find some?"

"They'll always be in your heart, Peter, always."

**---**

Peter had reached heaven. _Thank you, beautiful people, thank you. _

And the beautiful people rested in his heart, even though he never knew who they were.

It was Sirius and Remus' secret.

Sirius had fulfilled his dreams: He had been on a secret love hunt to win Remus' heart.

Remus had fulfilled his dreams: _He_ had been on a secret love hunt to win _Sirius'_ heart.

_They_ were the Beautiful People.

Don't you forget that.


	7. Staring at the Moon

**Staring at the Moon**

_(A Dean/Ginny story)_

**By Sandshrew777 **

* * *

"Dean?" Luna asks, her blonde head poking around the door.

Dean flinches slightly and shoves something hastily into the left pocket of his robes.

"I'll be there in a moment, Luna," he replies, attempting a smooth tone and failing.

Luna smiles and takes a step into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks.

Dean laughs ruefully, his back still turned to her.

"No, Luna. But if I ever want to, you know you'll be the first person I fire-call," he replies.

Luna smiles and lays a hand on his shoulder. She squeezes strongly, once, then turns and exits the room, shutting the door just as quietly as she had seconds ago.

Dean exhales a breath he doesn't know he has been holding. His hand moves to his left robe pocket, and when it returns to view, his slender dark digits grasp a picture.

The picture is not a photograph. Instead, it is a sketched scene of a girl, sitting in a windowseat in the Gryffindor Tower. She is barefoot. Her legs are tucked underneath her. A thin, pink dress hangs across her features, complimenting her slim figure neatly. Her long red hair cascades down her back. Her head is slightly atilt, caught in silhouette as she stares up at a full moon outside the window.

Dean's finger lightly traces the sketched curves of the girl's jaw.

He remembers when he drew this picture of her.

He had walked into the Common Room, saw her looking so incredibly breathtaking, and his arm began to twitch. It always twitched when he felt the compelling urge to draw something that radiated inner beauty. It twitched when he saw the sparkling sunrise over the Forbidden Forest. It twitched when he watched the Owls fly in with the morning mail at breakfast, a cavalcade of color and action. It twitched when he watched the last warming embers of the fire sputter and slowly cool during his more introspective moments when he chose to simply sit and stare.

It twitched whenever he saw her.

So he stood and watched her for a moment, committing every detail of the image to memory. Remembered how her legs gleamed in the pale light. Remembered the look in her eyes, that look of hungry longing. Remembered the way that the moonlight encapsulated her jawline. Then he stepped closer and called her name, breaking her from her luminous reverie.

Later that evening, after a particularly heinous argument between the two, he began his sketch.

_"You don't know a THING about me, Dean Thomas!"_

(But he knew how the dress made her seem as innocent as the first day she had arrived at Hogwarts. He knew how she stared at the moon, hunting for the answers to the questions warring within her heart, mind, and soul. He knew she didn't love him.)

He began to refine the sketch the next day, establishing shadows, clarifying details, and erasing extra lines.

_"Just leave me alone!"_

(Alone. Staring, desolate, at the moon: the only thing as uninhabited and cold as her.)

He added color two days later, electing to paint everything in the picture but the girl herself.

_"I don't want to talk about it, Dean."_

(She never wanted to talk. She just brooded. Stared. Tried to find the answer to all of her problems in everything but herself.)

He completed the picture the day before they broke up.

_"I'm sorry, Dean. I just...I'm sorry."_

(Sorry for never trying hard enough. Sorry for not trying to warm her up with his passion instead of empty kisses. Sorry for not realizing she still loved Harry until he was in too deep. Sorry for loving her.)

He Shrunk the picture and carried it around with him ever since. During those cold nights on the run from the Snatchers, he would pull it out. He would trace the curve of the girl's jaw like a marooned soldier longing for his girl back home. And soon he noticed that his body wouldn't feel quite as cold anymore.

Just his heart.

And as he stares at it now, he hunts for the answers to his questions in its penstrokes.

He wants to know why he came to the wedding, still feeling the way he does for her.

He wants to know why she makes him feel complete everywhere except his heart.

He wants to know why Harry always gets the girl.

He wants to know why he keeps surviving to endure more days without her in his life.

He wants to know why he'll never stop loving her.

But sketched pictures cannot talk.

So he tucks the picture into the left pocket of his dress robes, takes a deep breath, and steps out of the bedroom that once belonged to Charlie Weasley. As he shuts the door and turns around, Luna's face appears in front of him.

"Ready, Dean?" she asks.

(He's not.)

"Sure, Luna," he replies, holding out his arm. She giggles and takes it. He escorts her down the stairs of the Burrow, through the house, past the hustle and bustle of Weasleys rushing about, and into the majestically decorated backyard. They take their seats and chat quietly with each other as the ceremony slowly winds its way to a beginning.

As they stand for the blushing, beaming bride, Luna takes his hand, offering wordless support. Dean hunts for Ginny's eyes, searches for his answers within the colored-in version of his affections.

But her eyes remain fixed on her prince at the end of the aisle.

_"It's over, Dean. We're just...not meant to be."_

Luna squeezes his hand tighter.

Her hands are warm.

Slowly, he squeezes back.


	8. Hunting for Snitches

**Hunting For Snitches**

_(A Charlie/Oliver story)_

**By Rye the Random**

* * *

**  
**

A large cheer went up from the crowd of Hogwarts alumni and their families.

Minerva McGonagall almost smiled over her square spectacles, her wand held to her throat.

"Now, Hogwarts alumni!" proclaimed her magically magnified voice, "You have two hours to find and collect as many Easter eggs as you can. They are hidden around the grounds. None are in the lake nor the forest. They are all protected with anti-Summoning Charms. At the end of the time limit, each egg will open. Prizes will be what you find inside your Easter eggs. The objects inside the eggs are sponsored by Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. If you try and open an egg before the time limit is over, you will be disqualified. You are allowed to work with partners, and no more than four people to a group. You may start."

The last of the professor's speech was lost in a roar from the crowd as students sprinted in every direction, baskets swinging madly.

Charlie chuckled as he watched Ron drag Hermione off into a clump of bushes and Harry pick up a small blue egg.

_This is what we need_, he thought from his perch in an elm tree. _To get our mind off those lost in the war. Hey… is that Finnegan snogging Lavender Brown? Godric, it just wasn't her sister who was the local Hogwarts slu-_

"Weasley!" interrupted a thick Scottish accent from a limb next to him. "Trying to spot Easter eggs from above, are we now?"

Charlie turned, nearly falling out of the tree. When he recovered himself, he found himself looking into the gray-green eyes of Oliver Wood.

Charlie let out a roar and Wood began to chortle, a deep throaty laugh. They embraced like brothers, but Charlie found his arms lingering a while longer than what seemed appropriate.

"Godric, Oliver, it's been years! How've you been? How's Puddlemere? Got a girlfriend? How's yer mum? What's been going on?"

"Whoa, Charlie! Slooow down… I've only just Apparated in from Cambodia this morning- we had a game against the Billywigs last night, beat them 345 to 27. It was amazing! I've been fine. Puddlemere's great! No, I haven't got a bird. Haven't you heard? I'm ga- well, never mind, tell you later. Mum's fine. She had another kid, my little sister Aimee, she's a right little bugger, seven now and stubborn as hell. How 'bout you?" Oliver finally took a breath to see Charlie grinning.

He lowered his voice. "Listen, mate. I heard about Fred. I'm really sorry." He watched Charlie's face cloud over and shifted on the knobbly tree branch. It was really getting quite uncomfortable. Charlie's knuckles had become white gripping the branch. Oliver, to avoid looking at the errant Weasley counted each individual finger._One… two… three… four… five. Well, that was exciting. What were you expecting, Wood? Get a grip…_

"It's alright, Wood." Charlie sighed. He had been trying to avoid the subject of his brother's death today…

"So, you were saying," continued Charlie, trying to cover the awkward moment, "that you don't have a girlfriend? What the hell is that about? You were quite the charmer back in our Hogwarts days, Oliver, what happened? Losing your edge?" The two boys chuckled as they watched people darting everywhere, crouching to pick up eggs.

"Well… er-" _-Merlin please don't let him freak-_ "I'mgaypleasedon'tbemad.IbetyouhatemenowDoyouhateme?" Charlie's red eyebrows raised.

"Heh. Want to repeat that? I about heard: blehblahblah." He waited patiently as Oliver breathed, his face colouring.

"I said… I'm gay. Please don't be mad at me. Do you hate me?" Charlie laughed.

"For cripe's sake, Wood! Finally! I thought you'd never tell me… I think I've known longer than you have. You used to stare at me in the changing rooms…"

Charlie trailed off and Oliver blushed even harder at this embarrassing memory.

"Soo…" drawled Charlie. "Want to go egg hunting? I suppose if we show up at counting with nothing McG is gonna be suspicious…"

They chuckled and chatted as they picked up eggs, filling a basket Oliver had picked up along the way.

Finding themselves on the edge of the Forbidden Forest they both dropped to their hands and knees, feeling around in the semi-darkness for more eggs they might have missed.

Suddenly Charlie found himself bonking into something very hard. "Ow! Bloody hell! Wood, wotcher, there's a tree there…"

"Fuck! Weasley! That was my head, not a tree you bloody git! Ow! Merlin's saggy Y-fronts! Bollocks! Ow, I think I'm bleeding-"

"Oh- for the love of Merlin, Oliver! Sit still! It can't have hurt that bad. Here, lemme have a look-"

But suddenly they found themselves forehead to forehead- kneeling amongst many plastic eggs and gazing, rather in a cliché manner, into each other's eyes, lips locked.

"Um," said Charlie, rather intelligently, heart pounding after they had broken apart.

"Yeah." breathed Wood. He could have sworn Charlie could hear his heart beating.

"Er… would you mind- if I did that again?" Charlie forced his voice to keep a low octave. The last thing he needed right now was his voice to crack. He was well past puberty, but with Weasley's you could never tell…

Wood didn't say anything but instead answered Charlie with a kiss.

There was a loud clanging sound somewhere on the ground- the time limit was up.

Suddenly, everyone knew what was inside the eggs- especially Charlie and Oliver, kneeling amidst probably about a hundred open eggs. Snitches.

Gold, silver bronze. Purple, green and blue. Snitches of all colours rose through the air and fluttered lazily around the heads of two well-muscled, very manly, Quidditch players.


	9. An Empty Easter

**An Empty Easter**

_(A Severus/Lily Story)  
_

**By Princess Gillybean**

* * *

His eyes flutter open; he sits up rubbing his eyes. The bleariness of sleep fades and he stares down at his pillow. Nothing. There is nothing there. He'd been expecting nothing, but it still wrenches his stomach to see it. The plain green cotton mocks him, he moans and lies down again, pulling his blanket up to his chin.

_Every Easter since first year he'd woken to find a tiny green egg on his pillow. Except this one._

Eventually he gets up, he wishes he could have stayed in bed all day but his stomach is growling loudly and quite painful. Cautiously he dresses, stopping when he reaches for his shoes. Slowly he tips first one then the other. Nothing. It takes a few minutes before he can breathe again.

_Every Easter since first year he'd discovered two tiny red and gold eggs in each of his shoes. Except this one. Not this year._

As he walks down the hall, he doesn't trip, not once. He stops and turns, he pauses, unsure for a moment. He goes back. He can't help himself. He looks at every suit of armour carefully. Nothing. Why did he bother?

_Every Easter since first year a tripping jinx caused him to uncover a cluster of tiny blue and yellow eggs nestled between the feet of a suit of armour. Except this one. Not this year. Things are different now._

Numbly he heads for the Slytherin Table, it's bare, as always. Slytherins go home for Easter. He sits down, staring at his goblet. He keeps his arms folded tightly. He will not check. Slowly, he reaches for the toast. He will not check. He butters it, aware his hand is shaking. He closes his eyes for the briefest second and reaches for the goblet. Nothing. His hand stops shaking as he pours his pumpkin juice.

_Every Easter since first year he's nearly ruined several tiny eggs, all different colours sitting cheerfully in his goblet at breakfast time. Except this one. Not this year. Things are different now. Because of him._

He heads straight back to bed. He can't bear to spend the day not finding the eggs he once would have received. He curls up under his blanket, glad that Slytherins all go home for Easter.

_Every Easter since first year he happened upon small chocolate eggs in the most random of hiding places through out the day. He never had figured out exactly how she knew where he'd be, or how she'd managed to get to the various places he went. Every year he begged her to tell him her secret. Except this one. Not this year. Things are different now. Because of him. This year he is alone._

He wraps his arms around himself tightly, trying to warm himself against the cold. Easter is now what is was before he met her. Nothing, another empty day of misery.But this year it hurts more. This year he knows what he's missing. He doesn't really need an egg or a hunt to make Easter special, all he needs is Lily.

**---**

She was woken by a loud crack, "Berry?" The house elf by her bed grinned, "Yes Miss, I is ready if you is wishing me to be but I is not sure if you is wanting the hunt for Master Snape anymore."

Lily shook her head sadly, "No, not anymore." It had been almost a year; this shouldn't upset her so much. "Miss is sad" Berry disappeared but returned almost immediately with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Lily took it gratefully.

"There Miss, now don't be sad. There is boys waiting to give miss chocolate in the Common Room. That will cheer Miss up."

Lily sighed, "James."

"He is a nice boy, he won't call Miss nasty, dirty names when all Miss has ever been is good and kind to him." Berry muttered darkly, "Master Snape didn't deserve to be Miss' friend, if Miss wishes, Berry can make a different type of hunt for him."

Lily was rather alarmed, "Oh no Berry, I appreciate your help over the years, thank you very much but that really isn't necessary."

"Miss is very kind" sniffed Berry. The house elf dragged Lily's blanket up to wrap around her shoulders and patted her hand, "Miss will be getting up soon and enjoying her day?"

"Yes Miss...I mean I will"

When Berry had gone, Lily drew the blanket even tighter around her; she wanted her best friend back.

Every Easter since first year she had created an egg hunt for Severus; he'd never had one before. She had recruited Berry to help because she often went home for Easter and had always spent several days beforehand mapping the route for the hunt. Severus had never figured out exactly how did it and every year he begged her to tell him her secret. She never did, to his immense frunstration. But he won't ask this year, things are different now. There is no hunt because there is no longer a friendship. And because of him and his cruel words, this year it doesn't feel like Easter.

She finished her hot drink, relishing the warmth spreading through her body. Then she climbed out of bed and began to dress, determined not to be miserable. After all, Berry had said James was waiting for her and though he was an arrogan prat he always gave her the tastiest chocolates.

_Things are different now and all because of him. This year they are apart. This year he is alone, but that doesn't mean she has to be._


	10. The Art of Being Mad

**The Art of Being Mad **

_(A Ron/Hermione story)_

**By Lexie-H**

* * *

**1.****  
_Destination, Determination, Deliberation_  
(Easter 1997)**

She's lost count of the number of times she's truly been angry. They say madness is an art, and if it is, she's surely proficient – especially when _he _is involved.  
Last week, he told her he loved her, but neither of them are ready to comprehend that, not yet.  
Instead, she tries idle conversation when they find themselves alone. Unlike anger, conversation is an art she's yet to master completely.  
"How's Lavender?" was never going to be a good start, particularly now that the warmth has risen in his cheeks. His lips tighten in displeasure, but he doesn't respond immediately. When he does, it's to change the subject:  
"D'ya think we'll be Apparating into those hoops again?"  
She hates him for his avoidance – but not really.  
Madness is an art, and to be successful she needs to commit herself. She tells herself she can't be truly angry when hate renders her indifferent. The excuse sounds feeble, but when he accidentally appears out of thin-air before her, mid-lesson, she knows she's made the right choice.

**2.**_**  
Birth, Death and Marriage**_**  
(Easter 1998)**

He can count the number of times he's truly been angry at _her_ on one hand. Madness is an art, and he is the sort of artist who believes in moderation.  
He didn't expect her to forgive him easily – in fact, he realized almost as soon as he left that he'd probably spend the rest of his life paying for it – but from where he's standing, things are starting to get ridiculous, even for _them_.  
There was something in her eyes, the night they arrived at the little cottage-by-the-sea; something beyond pain, that is. He remembers the feel of his arms around her as they stood by the graveside; remembers the overwhelming feeling of guilt that coursed through his body. _This is where I was hiding_, he wanted to tell her, but it didn't seem like a good idea to bring the topic up again, not when she was relaxing in his embrace so effortlessly.  
He's prepared to fight, though; fight for _them_, that is.  
They're all learning to use their anger for a purpose, now, instead of letting themselves wallow in it, and he sees this as an infinite improvement, because none of them can afford to wallow at the moment. In the space of a bare month, he's seen two deaths, one birth, and a marriage. (And he wants that for them, those last two, although he'd rather eat slugs again than admit it.)  
This quiet, fitful month at Shell Cottage has left him with a growing sense of fundamental change, from the way the sun hits the sea, to the loss of dreaminess in Luna's eyes.  
They need to win, at any cost.  
He needs to win, at any cost, for her.

**3.**_**  
Lest We Forget**_**  
(Easter 1999)**

She's been truly honest with him for almost a year, now, because she understands that omissions can be as poisonous as lies. Some days, he reminds her with a smile that he hasn't lost the ability to make the blood curdle in her veins – but this madness he makes her feel is more refined, now.  
She's mad _for_ him, for them.  
They fight for each other, now, and even though his eyes snap and her hair becomes static with tension, she knows everything is going to be all right.  
They've been through so much, seen so much, lost too much, to waste a minute on anything meaningless.  
The art of madness, she's learnt, lies in reason.

**4.**_**  
A Promising Generation**_**  
(Easter 2000)**

He's built a home for them, amongst the rubble of a battlefield. They've built a home together, and he revels in the overwhelming feeling of completeness he feels. It isn't complacency, and he knows this for a fact, because he's working harder than ever – _they're_ working harder than ever – to get their world in order again.  
Some days, he gets caught in the past, in the madness of grief, but more often than not she'll find him gazing blankly at the memorial in the new Ministry of Magic, and she'll pull him back with a touch of her five little fingers against his cheek.  
Everywhere he looks, he sees The Future; where he is a maker of dreams, an enforcer of the law, and very shortly, an uncle. One day, maybe, even a father for her children, although it's a constant struggle, reminding himself not to get too far ahead. He knows that if he keeps thinking this way, he'll end up madder than Trelawney, an outcome he knows they'd _both_ much prefer to avoid.  
It's almost surreal to imagine that a few years ago, their world was very nearly consumed by evil and death, when now all he sees is life, and an inherent goodness.  
He has more than just something to live for, now. He has some_one_.

**5.**_**  
The Thrill of the Chase**_**  
(Easter 2001)**

They've come a long way to reach this point; she acknowledges this now with a happy sigh, leaning back into his chest as they watch his family making fools of themselves in the name of childish fantasy, hunting the Weasley garden and fighting off gnomes in the name of Molly's famous toffee eggs.  
They've fought for this: for his niece to be here, sitting in the middle of the lawn, clapping her hands with glee as she tugs on George's rabbit ear. Nearby, her parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts dance in the fading light. They fought for little Teddy, asleep in an armchair, fists closed tightly around his treasure basket of brightly-coloured eggs, to know the joys of the world as well as the sorrows.  
And even though some days are still a struggle, and life is still mad, she wouldn't change anything, because she has the sneaking suspicion that without all their trials, without the thrill of the chase, she and he wouldn't be standing here together.  
He's whispering crossly about her ring digging into his palm, but his eyes are smiling and he pulls her closer still, so she knows he doesn't really mean it, and that there's no place in the world he'd rather the ring was than just there on her finger. Because these days, despite the periodical arguments (they wouldn't be _them_, otherwise), things are traveling startlingly smoothly, and it's really not anger when all it's over is a wet towel on their bathroom floor, or her inconsiderate jewellery.  
She tells him the art of madness lies in reason, and he tells her he knew there was a reason he's mad for her.


	11. Another One Through and Through

**Another One Through And Through**

_(An Elphias/Rufus story)_

**by Stella8h8chang**

* * *

"'_Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you,' said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses, 'Dumbledore's man through and through, aren't you…?'"  
(Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Chapter 16: A Very Frosty Christmas)_

**Coldness/Feelings (Easter 1978)**

The muggle streets are deserted tonight; it's Easter Sunday, and they're all in their homes, almost completely oblivious to the goings-on in the magical world. Something I've discovered in my old age is that muggles can be so endearing, sometimes even admirable at times…you can always count on them to find _something_ to celebrate, no matter how dark the times are. Unlike us, they know how to slow down and stop, to pause in their busy little lives. Like bees return to their hives to sleep at night. But then, _we_ are up against relentless evil of the kind that never sleeps.

As yet another Death Eater is taken into custody, I think, _I know why I want to stop, it's because I'm getting too old for this – this Dark Wizard Hunting Business._

This Death Eater, what's her name? Avery? Rebecca Avery, that's right. She's probably young enough to be my granddaughter or something. Of course, that says more about me than her. Avery is certainly not one of the babies of the Inner Circle. There are wizards and witches there, barely out of school, let alone their teens, youngsters who think Grindelwald is one name among many in a History of Magic textbook.

_Amos. Avery. Branch. _

I'm quite sure there was an Avery in my year at school. A Slytherin, like the rest of his family, of course. His name eludes me, as I strain to recall the Sorting ceremony of 1895.

_Castellan. Chenoweth. Collins. _

Where are they now? Are they still alive and fighting, at the age of ninety-four? Or, have they reached the winters of their lives? I cannot help but wonder, as I listen to the report from the junior Aurors, protected from the rainy coldness and desolation around me by the Impervius Charm.

_Davidson. Dumbledore._

Well, everyone knows where the Dumbledores are. The older one – nobody knows _how_ he has the time to do it – is simultaneously the headmaster of Hogwarts School, and all four cornerstones of the _Order of the Phoenix_, a snooty kind of secret service where even great wizards like his younger brother Aberforth, and my childhood friend Elphias Doge, are snubbed into second-class status.

Albus Dumbledore…is someone who's decided…_he's only as old as the man he's feeling. _

I have to suppress a snort. Albus Dumbledore. He thinks we Aurors have got the wrong idea, with our new powers to kill, rather than capture. _Foolish man, always having to think the best of people._

I'm ashamed to confess it, but a bit of competitive spirit from my youth is one of the things that keep me fighting. Still, I try to not go into that. _Surely I'm getting too old for this._

I think Davidson's dead; his health was never particularly good, owing to the unnecessary fifty pounds he lugged around with him daily. Passed it onto his daughters, married to the Crabbe and Goyle duo. What can I say? They deserve each other. Pity his sons-in-law are wanted Death Eaters; he wasn't that bad a bloke. Brutus Burke – even if he had the same first name as my uncle – was a nastier piece of work.

_How many years do I have left? _

A mental blank nudges me towards my own part in the Sorting.

_Ritter. Scrimgeour. Smeek. _

Ritter and I went to Ravenclaw, but Smeek went to Gryffindor. I should've gone there too – with Aberforth Dumbledore, and Elphias Doge – even these days, everyone says I rather resemble an old lion.

**Embracing/Eyes (Easter 1944)**

The world is at war.

And not just _our_ world, but the whole _muggle_ world too, since that madman is intent on overthrowing the Statute of Secrecy. So far, Germany and several adjacent countries have been broken. We are lucky, here in Britain, for his eyes have mainly been fixed on the Continent.

A not insubstantial part of my adult years has been spent fighting this _monster_, this abomination to wizardkind. I find it hard to believe that we are about the same age. When I met him twenty years ago, when most people thought his demands were reasonable, I thought him barely older than…twenty? Not so much because of his garish blonde hair – my own tawny mane has kept its colour over the years, much to Albus Dumbledore's dismay, I'm sure – or those bizarre eyes that suggest a youthful mishap with a Colour-Changing Charm – but his _childishness_. He acted as if the world revolved around him, and that we were either there to appease him with presents, or to be the toys themselves, the pawns in his chess set.

I know it's not easy to imagine a forty-year-old brat, but if there's any word that comes close to summing Gellert Grindelwald up, it's that. Well. If you ignore the fact he's, admittedly, something of a _genius_ – about the same calibre of Albus Dumbledore.

While I'm sitting here feeling sorry for myself, dear old Elphias turns up, pale as a ghost. He looks even worse than I do – and that says something, considering the 15-hour days I've been spending at the Ministry. Praise the Lord for Good Friday, and thank God that I managed to get it off.

"Happy Easter," I say, offering him some tea.

Elphias accepts it quietly. His eyes are swollen, as if he's been crying himself to sleep every night for a week. And if I know Elphie, he probably has. But he's a lot stronger than he looks – a far cry from the spineless lapdog most people think he is – and that's why I've always felt so strongly about him. I attempt a joke.

"The world's falling apart and we're sitting here having a cup of tea. How very British."

He looks, more than ever, on the verge of tears. I suppose he's thinking of the better jokes which Albus makes. I think I'm right, when he replies, "Rufus, when do you think Albus is going to confront Grindelwald?"

I say, patting his hand, "I – I don't know."

_What else does he expect me to say?_

"_I'm sure he'll rise to the occasion. He's always embraced the chance to deal with dark wizards."_

Sometimes I wish that Hufflepuff boy in his year at Hogwarts – Harvey – was here – whom I knew because he was dating Hesper Starky, the pretty Ravenclaw girl everyone was in love with. Well, not I, of course. Harvey had this knack for reading unspoken emotions. Unfortunately, he went and wasted his talents on reading the unspoken emotions of dragons in Romania before he could impart them to Elphias. But then, I'm guilty of finding Elphie's naivety rather charming at times. Particularly the times before Grindelwald's manic muggle hunts began.

He's taken my hand, he's gripping it firmly. "We'll survive this war, Rufus, you and I, I know we will."

Hidden courage and loyalty – that's why after all those years, I'm still his, through and through, despite all odds. Or rather, odd people.

**Dancing/Chocolate/Candy (Easter 1920)**

Magical families are so complicated.

"We used to hate each other," Elphias says. It's the fortieth birthday of Delta Hitchens. Delta who was a classmate of Elphie's, who's telling me the story of _her_ best friend Catherine, who is married to Kenneth, the Head Healer at St Mungo's, who is my third cousin once removed. I haven't the foggiest idea how those two are managing to raise three children under the age of thirteen _and_ keep their jobs, but I take my hat off to them.

As I watch Catherine and Kenneth's five-year-old Maria dance about the room in a pink tutu ("It's most peculiar – her mother would never be seen _dead_ in pink, you know," says Elphias), Delta interrupts us with a most impertinent question.

"Ever considered having any children of your own?"

I nearly choke on my tea; evidently, she has no idea where my affections lie. It is most certainly not with the pathetic-patter…I mean, pitter-patter…of little feet.

Elphias saves my life, by thumping me on the back, and asking, "Delta, have you?"

"I'm single, and happy to stay that way," she replies.

"Cathy used to say that, rhyming bits and all," says Elphias, taking vengeance on my behalf.

"Albus would agree with me if he were here," says Delta snappishly, and Elphias bites his lip. Delta waves her arms at the children of her friends. "Attention all candy-hunters! Out into the garden now – the chocolate eggs are hidden!"

"Saved by the hunt," I mutter out of the corner of my mouth to Elphias.

"So now that mad muggle war is over, and we can go back to our normal lives, what will you do with all that peaceful time on your hands?"

"I work at the Ministry," I say. "There I fight a daily war against the paperwork. That's what you get when you're Junior Assistant to Ares Applewood himself. It isn't my style, but I hope to move to the Auror Office after my term…"

His mouth twitches. Forty years and a teeth-straightening spell, and he still hasn't gotten the hang of smiling. But I realise what's set him off; everyone knows I was the second choice for the job. No prizes for guessing who first choice was.

I realise for the umpteenth time – no matter what he said when we were both in our teens – it's always been about Albus, and it always will be. But it's not Elphias' fault; all the blame lies with the trickster, the charlatan, who's led him on since before the turn of the century.

Albus Dumbledore doesn't know Elphias; he treats him like a spineless, useless, good-for-nothing lapdog. He's never seen Elphie's heart of gold or half of the courage. I know, because I was the one who grew up alongside Elphias from the beginning – my family wasn't tainted by scandal like the Dumbledores'. _I_ was the one who ran around various gardens on Easter Egg Hunts with him thirty years ago. _I was the one_ who sat by the Black Lake and helped quiz him before his NEWTs not very long ago.

And now, Dumbledore has the nerve to think that whenever Elphie shows a gram of guts, it's all because the chap is in love with him. I know better.

**Kiss/Spring (Easter 1899)**

Hesper Starky's kneazle has had kittens _again_. I swear, she has learnt relationship ethics by watching that thing in the mating season.

Being the classic social climber, last year Hesper offered a kitten to Albus, who was too gutless to refuse, only to fob the poor thing off onto Elphias once she'd turned her pretty back on him. I, in contrast, being only in third year, stood out in the common room about as much as a log in the fireplace.

But now, thanks to Lady Luck, I can proudly say that my uncle's book, _The Beaters Bible_, is Quidditch Book of the Year for 1898, and is the top bestseller on the _Daily Prophet's Sporting List_. And now that my name is synonymous with fame and fortune, Hesper's deemed me worthy of one of her precious pets.

"Here you go, Rufus," she says, and a tawny-coloured kneazle-cat-cross crosses the room and jumps into the navy-blue armchair I'm sitting in. "Happy Easter."

The Ravenclaw common room is like a bag of snidgets; there's less than three months until the NEWTs and OWLs and all the older students' nerves are a-flutter. So I head for the mild spring morning outside, with the kitten loping along after me. And who do I see but the person I most want to see in the whole wide world?

Since arriving at Hogwarts nearly four years ago, Elphias and I have been fairly close; before that we played together as small children, since our parents believed wizarding offspring ought to be raised together. Never mind character, age or anything else, just mind the pure-bloodedness. Fortunately, we liked each other very well then, and now…well…I have to say that _I_ at least am liking him more than _very well_…

That sentence makes no sense. But while I might think of him more than a friend, I do wonder what he thinks of me.

Now – his Kneazle – which was relegated to Elphias by Albus – is playing catch-me-if-you-can with newly-hatched butterflies when mine joins in. His is a year older, but no less playful. They romp around.

If I were a Gryffindor we'd probably be doing the same, because I'd have pounced upon Elphias there and then. But he's lying quietly in the grass, his pert little nose in a book, mousy brown hair falling into his eyes, which occasionally look up to watch the kittens. All I do instead is lie down next to him and sneak glances at the book – Charms, my favourite subject! – and I say…

"They look like they're kissing."

It's innocent enough. Innocent as a kneazle playing with a ball of wool.

Maybe it's the stress of exams that makes him do it, but out of the blue, Elphias kisses me.

On the mouth.

This is just about innocent enough to warrant a kneazle alarm. But…in a good way?

"But I thought you – Albus – you and – Albus and –" I stammer, once we've broken apart.

My face feels hot and I realise I must be as red as a cherry, or worse, Albus' hair.

"Oh come on, Rufie, that was years ago!" Elphias ruffles my hair. "You're in Ravenclaw, surely you know the things going on between the Head Boy and…"

But from what I've overheard, the muggle-born, Catherine Carlton's affections for Albus Dumbledore have been rather one-sided. If it had been the other way around, we would've easily dismissed it as prim muggle propriety, but no, most of us are quite sure there's nothing there. Besides, Hesper Starky says that once upon a time, Albus had a certain partiality towards her current partner…

Still, if he's given up on Albus, I'm hardly going to complain.

And hang the NEWTs too.

**Egg/Flowers (1890)**

We sit quietly eating our Easter Eggs, listening to "Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump" to us. Even though Easter Sunday is a muggle holiday, we wizard children get together and have a party. There's Rosie Castellan, Duncan Davidson, Maggie Collins and Enid Smeek, who are my age or younger, and there's Brutus Burke, Olivia Monaghan, Emeric Switch, Lawrence Kingsolver, Georgie Goodsell, Stella Moon, Marcus Prewett and Elphie Doge, who are a little bit older than me. I'm six. Elphie, whose mother is reading to us, is nine.

_Once upon a time, in a faraway land,_

_Was a muggle king, who longed to understand_

_The secrets of magic, which you well know,_

_Run in your blood, and only birth will bestow._

Everyone loves hearing the story of the clever old witch who outsmarted a greedy muggle king and his nasty "charlatan", whatever that is. Elphie says it's a man who makes money by tricking other people.

"I hate the king," I whisper to him. "But I hate the charlatan more. Because tricking people is mean."

"But what if he was smart?" Elphie points out. "What if he couldn't help it? Babbity tricked the king too…"

"Shhh! You might spoil it for someone who hasn't heard it before!"

_She watched them shout nonsense at the sky,_

_From dawn every day, till evening was nigh,_

_Until she could no longer ignore –_

_Those stupid muggles – how she laughed and she roared!_

_The King was humiliated, rightly so,_

_And demanded his magic at once would show,_

_In front of his subjects the following day,_

_Or else the charlatan would with his life pay._

"See," says Elphie, "The king wasn't very nice either. He was going to kill the poor charlatan. At least the charlatan wasn't planning to kill anybody. I think killing is bad."

"But sometimes you have to kill people, because they have to be punished, like at the end the king kills the char…"

"Rufus! No spoiling the ending for people!" interrupts Mrs Doge. Brutus, who's sitting behind me on the rug, pinches me hard. I'm going to tell Mrs Burke on him later.

_But Babbity was very much wiser than him_

_With a smile, she said, "I will do anything_

_Within my power to help you, my dear."_

_For how could a muggle cause a witch any fear?_

"_You must conceal yourself in a bush tomorrow morn,_

_And when you see the King with his 'wand' drawn_

_You must perform all the spells he wishes, one by one."_

_But Babbity answered, "What if it cannot be done?"_

"Spoiling is really mean," says Rosie. "It's not fair. Not everybody is as good and fast at reading as you."

"See?" I tell Elphie. "You might not be able to help being clever, but you should be nice to other people anyway." He shrugs.

_Until the Captain of the Witch-Hunting Brigade,_

_Whose dog had been poisoned by a flowering nightshade,_

_Carrying the corpse, came beseeching the King_

_To bring the dog back to life and end his suffering._

_So the King touched his twig to the cur's black nose_

_But nothing happened – since everyone well knows_

_That no magic can raise the dead – and so the revered_

_Babbity smiled, as the crowd snickered and sneered._

We all laugh along as the crowd in the story does, when the evil charlatan betrays Babbity – lying to the king that she is stopping him from doing magic – but she outsmarts him by vanishing in front of a tree. Even though the king chops it down, she is still alive!

"_Real witches and wizards cannot be killed_

_By being cut in half," said a voice that filled_

_The charlatan with dread. "Believe me, it's true!_

_See how your charlatan bears being cut in two!"_

_At this, the charlatan confessed, begging for mercy,_

_And was dragged to the dungeons to rot eternally._

_But Babbity was not finished with the muggle King –_

_She would cure him of his conceited thinking._

Babbity Rabbity is an animagus – she can turn into a rabbit, and she is hiding under the tree stump! Well, real animagi can't talk, but this is a story, says Mrs Doge. She teaches the muggle king a lesson – to leave wizards and witches alone. He even builds her a statue on the stump to remember her.

"See," Elphie says at the end, "The cruel king killed the charlatan!"

"But he had to! The charlatan was a bad man!"

"But now the king is a bad man too!"

"I think the charlatan's badder."

Elphie and I are very confused now.

"Well," says Mrs Doge. "Perhaps the king had to be cruel to be kind. He had to put the charlatan into prison because if he didn't, the charlatan would go out and trick and hurt more people."

This makes perfect sense to me, though not to Elphie.

"But maybe the king could have told him to not hurt people anymore, like Babbity taught the king a lesson just by scaring him, and then everyone would have lived happily ever after."

"Always have to believe the best of people, don't you, Elphie?" says his mother. "Oh well."

**Five Fingers/Warmth (Easter 1884)**

Eyes open.

I hunt around the room for something I know. There's a face. I don't know it.

Small brown eyes. Light brown hair.

A finger stretches out. I grab it. With all five fingers. It's not as big as a normal finger, but it's nice and warm. I smile.

"He smiled at me!" I hear. "See if he remembers you tomorrow!" says another voice.

Of course I will remember him. I want to. Forever and ever and ever. Because I saw him first.

"Let's be friends."

I don't know what friends are, but the boy is smiling at me.

Funny smile. Crooked teeth.

I laugh at him.

"Look at his tooth!"

First tooth. First friend. Saw him first.

"_Scrimgeour turned a nasty purple colour highly reminiscent of Uncle Vernon. 'I see you are —'_  
'_Dumbledore's man through and through,' said Harry. 'That's right.'__  
Scrimgeour glared at him for another moment, then turned and limped away without another word."_

_(Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Chapter 30: The White Tomb)_


	12. A Pink Egg

**A Pink Egg**

_(A Ron/Lavender story)_

**by Kristy Thomas**

* * *

Ronald Weasley was sleeping in on a Sunday morning in March. He just wanted to escape; from Harry and his obsession with Malfoy, from stupid apparition lessons, and especially from…

"WonWon!" Lavender shouted excitedly over him.

"What?" Ron questioned his girlfriend grumpily as he inhaled her overbearing cotton candy perfume.

"It's Easter!"

"What in bloody hell is Easter?"

"C'mon, I'll show you" Lavender said, as she dragged him out of bed.

Lavender took Ron down to the Gryffindor Common Room. Parvati and her new fling were waiting for the two. She handed them each a basket.

"And what would these be for?" Ron asked crankily.

"To collect the eggs. A house elf set up an Easter egg hunt for us. The eggs are hidden all around Gryffindor Tower. Whoever collects the most eggs wins. The hunt ends after someone finds the pink egg. Doesn't that sound fun Won?" Lavender sweetly asked.

Ron paused and looked into her eyes. She looked overjoyed to be with him, but they were just fighting the other day.

"What is with this woman?" he thought to himself.

"Sounds great. Let's get started." Ron responded halfheartedly.After a couple of minutes searching for the eggs, people returned from breakfast to relax in the Common Room.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ginny commented, as she smirked at her brother

"Don't ask." he replied, as he tried to find the pink egg. "Just don't even ask. And please tell me if you find a pink egg."

"Don't cheat Ron!" Lavender told him. "It'll ruin the fun."

Ron rolled his eyes, hoping it'd be all over soon.After thirty minutes of searching for eggs, and being humiliated to death, everyone in the huntgathered once again in the Common Room.

"It looks like that Ronnie and I won!" Lavender said excitedly, after counting up the eggs, including the pink egg in Ron's basket. "Let's go for a walk outside Ron, to enjoy the beautiful spring weather…"

"Ugh, I would, but I feel kind of….sick." he told her.

"Oh." she replied. "You best go to the infirmary then."

"I think I just need some sleep."

"I'll nurse you back to health then." Lavender followed him, as he made his way across the Common Room towards the door that lead to his room.

"Listen, I don't want you to get infected with what I have. It might be contagious."

"Then get better soon love!" Lavender said, and then kissed him on the cheek, completely ignoring what he just told her.

Harry followed Ron up to their dormitory.

"Are you seriously sick?" Harry questioned his friend.

"I'm sick alright. I'm sick of her. And I'm going to break up with her, no matter what it takes."


	13. Promises of the Future

**Promises of the Future**

_(A Rose/Scorpius story)_

**By Hondagirl**

* * *

⁮⁮⁮

He wants her.

He needs her.

From the shadows he watches her. Her cheeks flushed with happiness, her eyes bright with laughter. The sunlight glitters off her auburn hair, creating a halo around her angelic face.

He wants her in a way he's never wanted anything else.

The festivities continue around him but Scorpius pays them no mind. All he can see is _her_. All he can focus on is _her_.

It takes all his will not to leave the shadows and touch. To yield to the rise in his blood and the primitive ache in his heart that demands he claim her for his own.

But he doesn't dare.

He has no right to this girl, nay woman, who belongs to another. No right to a woman whose heart is entrusted to someone else. No right at all.

But none of that matters to his heart. For the mind cannot override the heart.

⁮ ⁮ ⁮

She can feel him. His eyes on her.

Watching, waiting.

She smiles softly as she moves throughout the children, helping the younger ones with painting their Easter Eggs. A sigh escapes her lips as she feels an arm encircled her waist. Warm air tickles her ear as he whispers softly, "Miss me?"

Rose turns around to gaze into warm brown eyes. Her heart leaps as he leans forward to capture her mouth in a kiss, his warm hands coming up to cup her face.

He kissed her softly, almost preciously and then draws back, his eyes never leaving hers. At that moment everyone else fades away and no one exists but them. And their love.

She loves him. Him alone. She believes he is the only one for her. They are just 17.

The horn sounds, signaling the start of the hunt and efficiently bringing them out of their trance. She laughs as he takes her hand, dragging her with him as they start to run. They run together. As one.

They pass by a tree where a lone figure stands, half hidden in the shadows. Rose glances over as they pass.

His face comes out of the shadows and for a span of a second, brown eyes meet grey. And at that moment, all the promises of the future are revealed.

⁮ ⁮ ⁮

Two years later she's back. This time alone.

Her feels lonely, her arms empty.

She shivers in the warm sunlight, unconsciously rubbing her arms.

She tries to smile at the children, holding their eggs up for her to see but she can't. Her facial muscles are stiff, unyielding. She doubts she can smile at anyone.

She wonders if she will be able to again.

She tries not to give into the sobs that have been threatening to overtake her, tries to be strong. But sometimes she's sick of being so bloody strong.

She walks past the sympathetic stares of her family and friends, knowing that while they mean well, it doesn't help. It only makes things worse. For nothing they say or do makes the pain go away. They can't bring him back. They can't bring her back.

They can't bring _them_ back.

She wanders towards the lake and stars idly at her reflection, wondering who the face is staring back at her. Wondering what went wrong.

She feels alone. Like half of her is missing. She wonders how long this feeling will last.

Her eyes prickle with tears and she bows her head, finally giving into them. Her body shakes silently with sobs as she crumbles to the ground, not caring if anyone is watching. For she has no choice but to give into the pain, give into the tears.

She has to let go.

⁮ ⁮ ⁮

He sees her.

A lonely figure on the edge of the lake. All alone in a world full of people.

He halts, unsure of what to do.

The urge to hold her, comfort her, astonishes him. It's not in his nature.

But she has a way of bringing out emotions in him that no one else can.

She is crying. Not loud sobs, just quiet tears that slip down her face and quietly break his heart.

He has never felt so helpless in his life.

He wishes he could do something, anything. Even if it would take her pain away for just a second.

He would do it.

The noise of the hunt behind him quiets as walks towards her.

Her silhouette is heartbreaking. She sits hunched, curled into herself as if trying to disappear. The once vibrant and exuberant girl he once knew is no longer.

Her light is dimmed.

And he hates it.

He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know what to do but the need to soothe her consumes him.

He wants to bring her back.

⁮ ⁮ ⁮

She wipes her damp cheeks with her hand as she ceases crying.

She feels a tad bit better.

She needed that cry.

A shadow falls over her and she looks up, confused to see an old classmate standing there.

Her confusion turns to amusement as he holds out a hankie in one hand, and a bottle of Firewhiskey in the other.

She chuckles, the noise sounding ill used in her throat.

He plops himself down next to her as she takes the hankie.

She feels calmer, more peaceful with him by her side.

There is silence for awhile. A comfortable silence that is only broken by the sound of the bottle being open.

She looks over and for a span of a second, brown eyes meet grey.

And at that moment, all the promises of the future are revealed.


	14. A Fleurie Easter

** A Fleurie Easter**

_(A Bill/Fleur story)_

**By –Defier of Reason-**

* * *

'Oui Maman. _Oui_, je t'ais dit que je revenait a la maison après-demain. Non non, tout va très bien, ne t'inquiète pas.'

Ginny stifled a giggle, mouthing 'ne twankete pa' at George behind Ron's back.

'Oui, ils sont très gentils. Une bande de rouquins comme ce n'est pas possible, ça ne cesse pas le brouhaha chez eux. Mais ils sont très aimable, et Molly nous gaves tous a mort...'

Ron turned his head, whispering 'Molly?' with a frown. Fred made flapping gestures at him, intent on catching the rest of Fleur's floo conversation with her mother.

'-oui, Bill est toujours aussi adorable,' Fleur continued with a laugh.

At the mention of Bill's name, George and Ginny immediately started making loud, wet kissing noises behind their hands. Fred snorted, the lemonade he was drinking coming up his nose and making him cough and splutter. Ron clapped him on the back loudly, restraining himself from laughing.

'What _are_ you guys doing?' a voice asked suddenly behind them, making them all jump.

They turned around as one. In the doorway of the kitchen was standing Bill, a bewildered expression on his face. As they looked around at each other, they thought that he might have a point; they really _might_ look a bit - bizarre - from an outsider's point of view. After all, four teenagers ranging from 14 to 17 years of age, huddled around the doorframe of the sitting-room, crouching down at different heights with their heads peeking through the doorway, were not a very common sight - to say the least.

Fred regained his composure first. 'Be quiet, will you!' he said to Bill in a hushed whisper. 'We're trying to listen to your _girlfriend_ -' he stopped to smack George around the head, as he had just let out a loud 'oooh' at the mention of he word 'girlfriend'. '-your girlfriend here speaking _jolie francais_.'

Bill raised his eyebrows but nonetheless lowered his voice. 'What's so special about that?' He said, coming forward a few steps to peer through the doorway.

They all noted with relief that Fleur was still speaking to her mother.

'Maman, je t'ais bien dit que j'arriver au centre d'Apparition a 10 heures du matin le lundi après Pâques. Il n'y pas de quoi t'inquiéter, Bill va m'accompagner.'

George turned his head towards Bill, grinning. 'Bill, are you really going to _m'accompagner_ Fleur? That's so sweet of you!'

Bill snorted, throwing his younger brother a condescending look. 'You don't really know what that means do you?' He mocked jokingly. 'Prat.'

'Shhh…' Ginny shushed impatiently, trying to catch what Fleur was saying.

'- Gabrielle va bien? Embrasse la de ma part! Ah oui, je voulais te demander, est ce que tu a vu ma-'

Bill nudged Fred with his elbow, silently signaling him to move over. Fred bended his knees and slid a few inches down, managing to squish George's hand, which was clasped around the door-frame. George let out a yowl of pain that was immediately followed by a chorus of hushing noises as four hands found their way to his mouth and they all toppled one on top of the other onto the floor on the hallway side of the wall, Fred's lemonade glass crashing to the floor and spilling its contents everywhere.

'You'll get us busted, you idiot!' Ginny hissed at George, shoving Ron off her unceremoniously.

They all tensed as there was the sound of footsteps from behind the wall and suddenly Fleur's slender figure appeared before them, wiping soot off her hands before placing them on her hips with an expression that was _clearly_ demanding an explanation. They all looked back at her from their tangled positions on the floor, with comically matching looks of children who had just been caught doing something they shouldn't have.

'What 'eez ze meaning of zis?' Fleur asked sharply, looking pointedly at Bill, who looked back at her, atypically sheepish. 'Beel? I demand une explanation!'

Bill smiled uncomfortably, all the while recovering his damaged body parts from various locations. 'Well, you see,' he started, glancing around for a source of justification.

'Oui?' Fleur prompted, tapping her foot.

'The thing is…' Bill looked around at his younger siblings. 'It's their fault.'

There was a chorus of protests from Ginny, Ron, Fred and George.

Fleur huffed impatiently, waiting for their racket to calm down. 'Outside,' she said, pointing towards the door leading to the backyard. Bill got up gingerly and, obviously trying to regain _some_ of his dignity, drew himself up and marched off towards the door, Fleur following him, her manner reeking of displeasure.

'Someone's in for a scolding,' George whispered audibly with a grin.

'And maybe even a spanking,' Fred added with a smirk.

Outside, Bill was standing with his hands in his pockets, listening - _ahem _- to Fleur rambling on about never being able to talk to her family by Floo without having a redhead or two giggle behind her and run away as soon as she turned around.

'- I find eet very annoying, you know! Why in Merlin's _barbe_ can't I ever talk French wizout 'aving to 'ear laughter and gigglez from be'ind me?' She said, pacing the grass frantically and waving her arms around to show her contempt, her French accent more pronounced than ever because of her agitation.

Bill's mind however - as most boys' minds are when their girlfriend is lecturing them - was elsewhere. _Her accent is so _damn_ sexy._

'-_franchement_, I do not seem to understand what eez so _particulier_ about me speaking French!'

_Hmm, is that a new dress? Well, it brings out the green in her eyes very prettily. Ah, her eyes…_

'And zose brozers of yours, always eemitating my accent! Eet is not my _faute_ zat I 'ave an accent! I do not laugh about zem for ozer things!'

_Oh, look at the spring sunshine reflecting in her hair… those pretty golden waves…_

'Really Beel, you should talk to zem! It's not very nice!'

_I love how she says my name…_ Beel_, it's so different from plain old _Bill.

_Beel… _

_Beel…_

'Beel?'

_Ah, here it is again. Beel…_

'Beel?_ Cheri_? Are you listening to me??'

'Hm? What? Sorry darling…'

Fleur crossed her arms with a half-amused expression and rolled her eyes. 'Do you even remember 'alf of what I said?'

'Heh, umm… you said something about my broze-um, brothers, right?'

Fleur huffed again. _'Franchement._'

'Well, you know how they are,' Bill said. 'They like teasing everyone… guess they just like hearing French.'

'Yes. Well, please do tell zem to refrain from doing zat, _daccord_?'

'Right.'

'Good.'

'Honey?'

'Oui?'

'Are you still mad at me?'

'A leetle bit.'

'A little enough bit for me to kiss you?'

'Hmph. Whatever,' Fleur said, a smile playing at her lips.

'Good enough for me,' _Beel_ said, cupping her face with his hand and leaning in to kiss her softly.

Fleur closed her eyes and returned the kiss, smiling affectionately into his mouth.

They broke apart, Bill caressing Fleur's cheek tenderly. 'Molly asked me to help paint ze eggs for ze Easter 'unt,' Fleur said suddenly, remembering the conversation they'd had earlier

'No problem,' Bill answered, smiling. 'I'll help you do it after lunch. The Hunt only starts at four.'

Fleur smiled and gave him a short kiss before walking back towards the house, leaving Bill to stare after her with a lovesick expression on his face.

'Oh Muumm!' Fred called, strutting into the kitchen shortly before 4 o'clock.

'What do you want?' a very agitated-looking Mrs. Weasley said, wiping her bright yellow finger on her apron and fingering a vividly painted Easter egg impatiently.

'That's how you greet you favorite son?' Fred started in an indignant voice, pretending to be hurt

'When there're still 15 eggs to be painted and the Hunt starts in 20 minutes, yes.'

'Oh. Well, anyway, I wanted to ask you something.'

'I could've guessed that myself,' Mrs. Weasley replied absently, at the same time picking up a new chocolate egg and starting to trace horizontal turquoise stripes across it with her wand.

'Oh; ok. Well, you know how you volunteered to organize the Easter hunt this year?'

'Yes. And I've been regretting it ever since.'

'So… you know; you're my mother…'

'Oh really?'

'Ha ha.'

'Fred?'

'Hmm?'

'I don't have all day you know.'

'Er, sorry. What I wanted to ask was… inwhateggdidyouhidetheasterprize?'

'Sorry?' Mrs. Weasley inquired, raising her eyes from her work and arching an eyebrow at her son.

'Well, you see, the thing is-'

'-that we really, really want to get the Easter prize this year,' George said, leaping into the kitchen, obviously having been standing by the door until now.

'For Merlin's sake boy, how many times do I have to tell you to _stop springing in on people like that_?? My heart's not as young as it used to be you know,' Molly cried exasperatedly, looking miserably at her broken chocolate egg.

'Here Mum,' Fred offered, tapping the egg with his wand and muttering _'reparo', _the little chocolate pieces flying back together to form a smooth Easter egg once more.

'Thanks darling,' Molly muttered, wiping her brow. 'I'm so stressed out that I forget my own wand.' She looked around, her eyes coming back into focus. 'And the answer is no.'

Fred started to open his mouth furiously, but George stamped on his foot and came forward. 'Oh, well never mind Mum, I knew you'd say that.'

Molly looked slightly surprised but nonetheless turned back to her eggs.

'Want some help with that Mum?' George offered, pulling out a chair to help Mrs. Weasley with the painting.

'Why, thank you Georgie! I'd love that,' Molly said fondly, ruffling her son's hair.

George barely managed to stop himself from recoiling, but still picked up an egg, ignoring a perplexed-looking Fred behind him.

Molly whipped around suddenly to face George. 'If you think I'm going to tell you where the prize is because you're helping me, you've got another think coming young man!' she said, having obviously finally registered what Fred had said earlier. She frowned at him, waggling a chocolate-covered finger.

'No, no, of course not!' George said hastily, pretending to be offended. 'Why would I do such a thing?'

'Humph. Maybe because you're a Weasley? And a Weasley boy at that.'

'Good point that,' Fred mumbled before marching out of the room, throwing another baffled look at his twin brother.

At almost half-past four, two heads were sticking out of the furrow of bushes in the pasture behind the Weasley's home, the designated area where the Easter Hunt was supposed to take place.

'Beel! I 'ave found one!' Fleur called merrily, lifting her head and holding out her hand, in which was clasped a yellow and pink poka-dotted Easter egg.

'Merveilleux, honey!' Bill replied with a grin, wiping his dirty hands on his pants before taking the egg and placing it in the collection basket a surprised Molly had handed them half an hour previously. 'I think I saw one in that bush on your left, wanna go check?'

Fleur nodded happily, pushing back her silvery-blonde hair and prancing over to the designed bush with a school-girly laugh.

Bill looked at her with a grin, shaking his head. As soon as she had her back to him, he discretely took a palm-sized, egg-shaped package out of his shirt pocket and waved his wand silently, making it float over to a shrub on Fleur's left and stay there.

'Was it 'ere?' Fleur called, pattering her hands on top of the bush.

'A little bit more left I think,' Bill responded, concealing his smile.

'Aha!' Fleur shouted triumphantly, drawing Bill's egg out of the bush just as he'd planned.

'Oh, this one looks like it should be opened,' Bill said innocently, crouching down next to Fleur.

Fleur looked at him curiously, gently starting to unwrap the egg. She let out a small gasp as the wrapping paper dropped to the earth and a beautiful egg, painted the colors of the setting sun with a single white flower traced on it, was revealed.

'C'est magnifique,' Fleur murmured, observing the egg with wide eyes.

'Hm,' Bill nodded, taking her hand and looking he too at the egg. 'It's for you,' he whispered, shuffling his knees closer.

'Really?' Fleur smiled, looking up at him.

'Yeah. For you, Fleur,' Bill said tenderly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. 'It opens,' he added as Fleur continued to look at the enthralling egg, apparently satisfied with doing just that.

Fleur moved her fingers around the middle of the egg silently, searching for the opening. She locked her fingertips on it and pushed it open, gasping as a torrent of large-winged butterflies of all colors flew out of it, filling the air with their flapping of wings, and the sight with multi-colored specks of light, made from their passing in front of rays of sun.

'Eet is beautiful,' she breathed, turning to look at Bill with a soft smile, tens of butterflies revolving around her head like a halo.

Bill gazed back at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling upwards. 'I'm glad you like it.'

'Like it? I love eet!'

'I love you,' Bill grinned, kissing her softly.

'Me too,' Fleur muttered through his lips with a smile.

'Oh my Fred, do you see what I see?' A familiar voice shouted too-loudly from nearby.

Bill sighed. 'Piss off guys,' he called over his shoulder.

The twins edged closer with matching smirks. 'Billy-poo want to continue his snogging-poo?' Fred mocked.

Bill turned his head with a sigh. 'I really don't want to do this,' he said.

'Do what?' George inquired.

'_Oppundo_!' Bill said, pointing his wand at Fred and George. The butterflies charged at the twins with an angry buzzing sound unlike anything any of them had ever heard - at least from butterflies.

Fred and George started to laugh, but a second later they were hoisted into the air by a few hundreds of winged-insects, and their mixed laughter and cries of surprise floated away with them.

'So, where were we?' Bill said, turning back to Fleur with a grin.

'Cliché,' Fleur answered with a laugh, clasping the bottom half of her Easter egg in her hand and leaning forward to effectively - although it would probably slip his mind a moment later - remind Bill where they'd been.


	15. An Accidental Proposal

**An Accidental Proposal**

_(A Teddy/Victoire story)_

**by Realmer06**

* * *

Teddy Lupin was not one to be easily intimidated. His best friend worked as an Unspeakable, his godfather was Harry Potter, and he spent most of every day training as a magical psychiatrist with imprisoned ex-Death Eaters who had all, at one point, wanted his mother or his father or both to be very much dead. Not to mention the fact that during his years at Hogwarts, his pranks had led him to face the wrath of every irate teacher in Hogwarts at least once, and, even scarier, the wrath of his irate grandmother. No, Teddy Lupin was not easily intimidated.

Bill Weasley terrified him.

It hadn't always been this way. There was a time when Teddy had thought Bill was one of the coolest adults he had ever met, and wanted to be just like him in almost every respect once he had grown up.

But now things were different because now Teddy happened to be dating Bill Weasley's eldest daughter, and that changed everything. Especially considering that Teddy hadn't really gone about beginning to date Victoire in the best way, which had led to her being miserable and hating him for an entire summer. Even though he had fixed things as soon as humanly possible – well, nearly – and Tor now very much did _not_ hate him, Teddy, despite all accounts that Bill Weasley liked him, knew in the inherent way that boyfriends of daughters know, that Bill actually wanted to take every painful and damaging curse he had learned in his many years of working for Gringotts and use them on Teddy's fragile and unsuspecting body.

But this story is not about Teddy's fear of Victoire's father, at least, not directly. It does factor into the story, and will be mentioned at least once or twice before the story is over. But this story is about Teddy and Victoire, and it is set during the Easter holidays the year Teddy turns 23 and Victoire turns 21, and it does not actually begin with Teddy and Victoire. It begins with Teddy going to visit his godfather the morning before Easter, an official-looking envelope clutched in his hand.

It was Ginny who opened the door and welcomed him inside, then shouted good-naturedly for Harry to get his nose out of that spell and get his arse downstairs if he wanted to see his godson. Teddy grinned. There weren't very many people who would speak like that to the Harry Potter, but nearly all of them had, or had at one time had, the surname of Weasley.

"No kids today?" Teddy asked, glancing around the empty house with a bit of surprise. He knew they were all home from school for the holiday. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Oh, they're all over at Ron and Hermione's playing Quidditch, because apparently, they don't get enough of that during the school year."

"As if you didn't do the same thing every time you were home for a holiday," came a new voice as Harry came down the stairs. "Besides," he said, kissing his wife briefly. "Our children and nieces and nephews are spread out over three different Quidditch teams at school."

"So you'd think they'd get enough of playing against each other!" Ginny said, with the air of one winning an argument. Harry laughed, then turned to his godson.

"And what brings you to our corner of the wizarding world, Teddy?" Teddy was quite glad he'd finally been asked, because he had been holding his news in for so long that he thought he might burst if he didn't get to say it out loud to _someone_ soon.

"I have news," he said carefully, trying and failing to restrain the grin now forming again on his face.

Harry took one look at him and said, "So, are you finally going to make an honest woman out of my niece?"

"No," Teddy said automatically, "I –" Suddenly, what Harry had just asked fully hit him. "No!" he said hurriedly and forcefully, completely taken aback by the question. Marriage? Him and Tor? Married? His mind reeled, and he almost missed Ginny smacking her husband's arm and saying, "Harry!"

Harry looked completely unabashed. "I just thought –" he started.

"I haven't even been dating her that long!" Teddy said, more from just having his thoughts spill out of his mouth than in conscious response to Harry's statement. Harry gave his godson a look, one eyebrow raised.

"Teddy, you've been dating her for almost three years."

"Exactly!" Teddy said, as if all his points had been made for him. "You dated Ginny for three years before you married her."

"This is my point," Harry said simply.

Teddy stood there, trying to bring himself back, but Harry had thrown him completely off his message, and he could no longer really remember why he had gone to see them in the first place. "No, Tor and I aren't getting married," he said. "I mean, I haven't asked her. Not that I intended to. I mean, not, you know, right now. I hadn't even really considered it, I mean, not seriously. Well, I had, but not –"

"Teddy!" Harry said sharply, taking him by the shoulders. Taking a deep breath, Teddy managed to stop babbling.

"No, Tor and I are not getting married, we haven't even talked about," he forced himself to say calmly. "My new is, I got my results back. From the test. I'm certified. Officially. And I've been hired by Mungo's." He held up the envelope. A smile spread across his godfather's face.

"Congratulations, Teddy," he said sincerely, pulling his godson into a hug while Ginny clutched at his upper arm, waiting for her turn to hug him. For a few moments, the entry hall of the Potters' home was filled with the echo of congratulatory remarks and with smiles that positively lit up the space.

Once the praise and pride had run their course, though the smiles never quite left, Teddy admitted he had to get going. "You sure you can't stay for lunch?" Ginny asked. Regretfully, Teddy shook his head.

"No. Em's taking me out to celebrate." He was on his way out the door after saying his goodbyes when his godfather's wife's voice stopped him.

"Teddy? You and Tori really haven't talked about it?" Awkwardly, Teddy turned, and shook his head. She cocked her head to the side. "Why not?" she asked softly. Teddy half shrugged, not really knowing how to respond.

Harry answered for him. "He's afraid of your brother," he whispered loudly into her ear. Teddy frowned.

"I am not!" he said defensively. Ginny laughed, not unkindly.

"Bill? There's nothing at all to be afraid of, Teddy, he loves you! Now, if it were Charlie, you'd have something to worry about." Teddy nodded, not really reassured.

"Uh, thanks," he said, eliciting another laugh from Ginny.

"Bill and Fleur are holding an Easter Egg Hunt for the kids tomorrow. You planning on being there?" she asked. "I mean, can you overcome your fear of my eldest brother–"

"This is excruciating," Teddy muttered, but there was a smile on his face. "And yes, I will be there, seeing as how I've already been told that I will be. A knowing smile crossed Harry's face.

"Ah, women," he said, earning another light smack from his wife. "Well, we'll see you then. I imagine you'll be sharing news there as well."

Teddy left his godfather's with the uneasy feeling that Harry hadn't been referring to his new job.

He made the mistake of mentioning both the conversation and the uneasy feeling over his lunch with Emily Morrigan, his best friend and an Unspeakable who worked with love in the Department of Mysteries, the very person who had been, when you got right down to it, responsible for him and Tor being together in the first place.

"Well, he's quite right," was Em's immediate response. "You _should_ ask Tor to marry you. You should have asked her a long time ago."

Teddy sighed. "I should have known better than to ask you," he muttered, but without any real animosity.

Emily put down her glass and leaned across the table, looking at him with a shrewd, calculating gaze. "Teddy, you and I have been here before," she said plainly. "And I would have thought that your experiences in the past would have taught you that I'm usually right about these things." Teddy grimaced. Unfortunately, he couldn't argue with that.

"Look," he said, trying to reason with her. "I have reasons for holding off on this right now."

She gave him a long, penetrating look before she said, "Teddy, Bill Weasley is not that frightening."

Teddy skipped asking how she had known that's what he'd meant and went straight to, "That's because you're not dating his daughter." Emily acknowledged this with a slight nod of her head.

"True enough. Have you heard that Professor Longbottom and his wife are expecting?"

The next morning, Teddy Apparated to Shell Cottage ten minutes before he was expected. He was far from being the first one there, however; he could hear the shouts of all his young almost family members almost before he appeared in Tor's front yard.

She saw him out her bedroom window on the second floor. A grin on her face, she waved enthusiastically, then disappeared. A grin on his own face, he hurried to the door much faster than he had been moving before. He vaulted onto the front step as the door opened.

"I've missed you, sweetheart," he said.

"Well, thanks, Teddy," came a male voice that Teddy knew all too well. "I've missed you, too," said Bill Weasley, a half-smile on his face. Teddy's heart plunged into his shoes and he swallowed hard.

"Good morning, sir," he said faintly.

"Good morning," Bill said cordially, leaning on the doorframe. "Come in, Teddy." Nodding and refusing to make eye contact, Teddy slipped inside the front hall. Thereafter passed a few of the most excruciating moments of Teddy's life.

"Teddy?" came his girlfriend's voice as she appeared at the top of the stairs. _Oh, thank God_, he thought with an audible sigh of relief. She grinned and almost danced down them and flung herself into his arms. "Oh, Teddy, I've missed you!" Teddy was very aware of Bill's eyes following every move he made.

"Missed you, too," he mumbled.

"And what were you two talking about?" she asked, looking between Teddy and her father.

"Oh . . . nothing," Teddy said in a voice that was embarrassingly higher than his usual tone. Tor smiled widely.

"Come on," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him briefly. "Let's go out back." And she took him by the hand and pulled him out of the house. Teddy didn't have to look back to know that Bill's eyes were following them all the way outside.

Once in the back meadow, Teddy was met with the greetings, laughter, and chaos that always came along with a Weasley family gathering. Within five second of his stepping outside, four people had shouted greetings to him, a basket had been hung on his arm, Molly Weasley had offered him food, and his chocolate egg had nearly been knocked out of his hand as George's nine-year-old daughter Roxanne ran shrieking after her older brother. Teddy grinned. He was home.

It took fireworks from both Harry and Bill to restore as much order as a Weasley gathering ever had.

"Okay, listen up," Bill said loudly. "The rules are simple. There are two hundred eggs hidden in the lower meadows. You can work by yourself or in teams of two, but if you're in teams, you can't split up, or you'll only count separately. You will have thirty minutes to collect as many as you can. Don't even think about using wands; for one thing, most of you are underage and there are several members of Ministry Law Enforcement present and related to you. Two, that would be cheating, and all the eggs you had so far collected would be distributed to all your siblings and cousins. Three, the eggs are unSummonable and unRevealable anyway, so it wouldn't do you any good."

There was a small ripple of laughter across the family, on top of disappointed groans from James and Fred. Bill grinned in their direction. "Sorry, boys, but we know you better than that. Now then, some of the eggs will be worth more than others. No, there's no obvious way to tell, but as a general rule of thumb, if you have to work hard to get it, it'll probably earn you a few extra points. The team with the most points at the end of the half hour wins a prize All right. On my mark . . ."

The next moment, several more fireworks had blasted from the end of Bill's wand, and the eleven Weasley/Potter children were off, shrieking and laughing, across the meadows.

"Come on," Tor whispered in his ear, after looking over his shoulder to make sure all the adults were now engaged in conversation. She took his hand again and led him off toward the line of trees that surrounding her property.

"I'm pretty sure there aren't any eggs up here, Twa," Teddy pointed out as they crossed the boundary into the upper meadow and turned a corner.

"I know," she said, looking back over her shoulder. "Which means there won't be any siblings or cousins up here to interrupt us." She turned and smiled at him, still holding his hands. He might have been more enthusiastic if he hadn't still been able to feel her father's eyes on him. Luckily, Tor sensed his mood, and she was more than content to just sit at the edge of the treeline, their backs braced against a fallen log, watching the antics of the hunters below them.

"I'm so proud of you," she said once they had settled, his arm around her shoulders.

"Hmm?" he said, frowning into the distance, distracted.

She sighed. "Teddy," she admonished. Teddy forced his attention to her.

"Sorry," he said, running his free hand through his hair.

"Is everything all right?" she asked softly. He smiled down at her.

"Absolutely," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm here with you, aren't I?" That made her smile, and she turned her face to his. He kissed her, long and sweet, reveling in the by now long familiar jolt of rightness. In three years, it hadn't gone away.

After a time, they lapsed into comfortable silence, and Teddy was left alone with his thoughts. He was almost 23. And he loved her, his Tor, his Twa. He loved her, and knew without a doubt that she loved him. And he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her; he'd known that since the first time he'd kissed her.

They'd come a long way together, he and Tor. Harry was right. Harry and Em and Ginny. He wanted to marry her. So what was holding him back? Well, her father for one thing, though in the long run, Teddy knew he wasn't going to let that stand in his way. It was the asking, he supposed, though he really didn't know why that should be all that difficult. It was two words. All he had to do was open his mouth and say, "Marry me."

Very suddenly, Tor stiffened beside him. When he turned to look at her in question, he found that she was staring at him in shock. Frowning in concern, he thought frantically, trying to figure out what would have caused her to look at him that way. The question died on his lips, however, as the answer hit him.

"Merlin, I said that out loud," he breathed, horrified. Numbly, she nodded, still staring at him.

"Yeah, you did," she said faintly. He pulled his arm away from her to run both his hands through his hair. He'd just proposed. To Tor. Without any sort of planning at all. Just . . . proposed.

"D'you –" she started to say, but her voice didn't seem to be working well. She closed her eyes, swallowed, and tried again. "Do you want to . . . take it back?" she asked softly. Slowly, he shook his head.

"No," he said slowly. "I don't, I–" Taking a deep breath, Teddy shifted so that he was fully facing her, sitting back on his heels. He took both her hands in his. "I don't want to take it back, Twa," he said softly. "I meant it. I do . . . want you to marry me. If – if you will."

"Of course I will," she said softly, immediately.

"Okay, um . . . good then," Teddy said, trying to work through what had just happened. He was brought out of his thoughts by a stifled laugh. "What?" he asked Tor.

"I – I'm – sorry!" she gasped, no longer able to hold her laughter in. Teddy dropped her hands to cross his arms and look affronted. "It's just – you ask me – and then – all you say is – 'good then'?" And she collapsed back against the tree trunk, shaking with mirth. Teddy frowned at her for a few moments before slowly overcoming to the humor himself.

"Oh, yeah? Laugh at me, will you?" he said, and threw himself down beside her and began tickling her. She shrieked and tried to wriggle away from his fingers, but it was no use. A brief but fierce struggle ensued. Tor fought valiantly, but in the end, she was simply no match for Teddy. The battle ended with both of them on the ground, Tor on her back, Teddy half on top of her. "Give up?" he asked, breathing hard.

Laughing and out of breath, she nodded. With a smile, Teddy reached above her head and picked a small daisy. Tor peered up at him. "What are you –" she started to ask, but Teddy shushed her with a look, then returned his concentration to the flower. Deftly, he tied it into a small loop, then tapped it with his wand. Smiling at his handiwork, he put his wand away again and picked up Tor's hand. Carefully, his eyes never leaving hers, he slid the glass flower ring onto her finger. Her eyes shining with love and amused disbelief, she shook her head. "Wow, Teddy. You're really quite something, you know that?" she said. Teddy grinned.

"Indeed I do. And you love me for it."

"Indeed I do," she responded, then pulled his face down to hers.

They occupied themselves in this manner for some time, and Teddy knew he'd never been happier. That is, until a rather unhappy thought occurred to him and he groaned involuntarily.

"What?" Tor asked him.

"I'm gonna have to talk to your dad," Teddy moaned in some distress. Tor laughed.

"Oh, Teddy, he's not that scary!" she insisted with a smile.

"Says the girl who has him wrapped around her fingers," he grumbled, but with Tor right there, smiling up at him, he couldn't stay discouraged for long.

They spent another long few moments happily engaged, and then Teddy made the mistake of thinking, _Nothing can ruin this moment_.

It was just then that a new voice rang out. "You know, even if Teddy was maybe not paying attention, I would have expected my daughter to remember that I didn't hide eggs this far up the meadow."

Wondering what he had done to earn the horrible luck of not being struck by lightning at that moment, Teddy flopped onto his back, hiding his face in his hands and letting out a nearly incoherent groan that sounded suspiciously like, "Oh, god."

Tor, however, merely sat up and smiled up at her father. "Hello, Daddy," she said. Bill Weasley nodded.

"Hello," he said. "Tor, your cousins and siblings are waiting quite anxiously for you, as they want to see who won the hunt. Although," and he glanced down at their nearly empty basket, "I don't think they have much to worry about, as it doesn't seem to appear that you're going to be winning much of anything." Teddy peeked out from behind his fingers and immediately regretted it. Bill was standing in every boyfriend's dreaded position: legs spread firmly, arms crossed across his chest, and one eyebrow raised as he looked at the pair of them.

"Oh, I don't know," Tor said to her father, glancing at Teddy. "I think that depends on what you classify as winning."

Teddy swallowed hard. Feeling rather more vulnerable than was comfortable, he struggled to his feet, then held out his hand to Tor. If Teddy had realized that she was offering him her left hand, he would have been far more strategic concerning where he placed his fingers. As it was, he didn't realize this fact until it was far too late. Bill had already seen the ring.

Teddy and Tor realized this at the same moment, as Bill's eyebrows raised even higher, and his eyes flickered from Tor's hand to her face to Teddy and back again. Hastily, Tor hid her hands behind her back, and Teddy took deep, steadying breath, screwing up his courage. He was a Gryffindor, damn it, and the moment had come.

"Now, Dad," Tor started, but Teddy stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Twa, why don't you back down to the house and help your mum," he suggested. He glanced at Bill and swallowed. "I've need to talk to your dad." Tor smiled at him, then stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

"Don't be scared," she whispered.

"Easy for you to say," he whispered back.

"Just hold your ground."

"Right. But if I'm not back in ten minutes, come look for my body?" She swatted him lightly on the arm before walking away, one last look back at the pair of them.

When Teddy had thought earlier that day that he was unable to imagine any scenario more awkward than standing in that entryway after having called his girlfriend's father 'sweetheart,' he had been quite mistaken. He wasn't entirely sure why standing in the meadow, trying to ask for Bill Weasley's daughter's hand in marriage was more awkward, but it was.

It didn't help that Bill was just standing there, staring at him, waiting for him to speak. As determined as he had been a few moments ago, he now found himself completely unable to say a single, bloody thing.

Finally, Bill opened his mouth to say something, and that was all the push Teddy needed. "Sir, I want to marry your daughter," he blurted out. Then he closed his eyes and seriously considered fainting.

"I gathered," Bill said evenly.

"So, um . . ." Teddy swallowed. "Can I?" he finished awkwardly, very, very hesitant to look at Bill as he asked this. There was a long silence.

"Teddy," Bill said finally, "I have it from several very strong sources that you are afraid of me. Is this true?"

"Yes, sir," Teddy said immediately.

"Teddy, I assure you, I am not that frightening," he said. Teddy nodded.

"So everyone keeps telling me, sir," he said, still not looking at the older man. He was experiencing a moment of mild panic, as he was fairly sure one was supposed to be able to feel one's legs and hands under normal circumstances.

"Teddy, relax," was the next thing he heard, and then Bill Weasley had him by the shoulders, and he had no choice but to look up into his face. He forced himself to take a deep breath. "Good," he said, and Teddy noted that his eyes were very like Tor's. Somehow, that didn't make the situation any easier.

"Teddy, you love my daughter," Bill said, and Teddy opened his mouth to answer.

"I – wait, was there a question in there?" Teddy asked. Bill laughed.

"No, Teddy," he said with a smile. "Just a statement. I know that you love her. I think I've known it longer than you have." With a pang, Teddy remembered the horrible beginning of their relationship.

"Wouldn't take much, sir," Teddy muttered, looking down. He heard Bill sigh.

"Teddy, the name's Bill. Use it please."

"Yes, sir – Bill," Teddy forced himself to say. Bill's piercing eyes held his for a moment, and then he released him, both physically and from his gaze.

"Are you going to hurt her?" he asked, looking down across the meadow.

"No," Teddy said immediately. Then his gaze followed Bill's to that familiar blonde figure who was now dancing around in a circle with another, smaller, blonde figure. Teddy felt another pang, remembering once more than awful summer. "At least," he said, in a smaller voice, "not intentionally. And if I do, I'll fix it as soon as I can. I don't ever want to see her hurting."

"Nor do I," said Bill softly, and in that moment, they were united in a common goal, and because they were, something changed. "Yes, Teddy, you may marry my daughter. You have my permission and my blessing, if that's what you need. In fact, you had them both long ago."

Teddy turned his head to look up at the older man. Bill met his gaze, and both men smiled. "Thank you," Teddy said.

"Actually, I don't have much choice," Bill told him. "I'm terrified of what Victoire would do to me if I refused you." Teddy smiled at that. "A word of wisdom to you, Teddy, she's the one you need to be afraid of." Teddy laughed.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. Then Bill put an arm around Teddy's shoulders and walked him down the meadow back toward the house.

"Teddy," he said at one point along the way. "Not that I don't admire your transfiguration skills, but for the wedding, make sure you get a real ring, would you?" Teddy looked down, smiling at the jibe.

"I would have for this, but I hadn't really planned it," he admitted.

"That's really what you want to tell your future father-in-law?" Bill asked, and for a moment, the panic flared up in Teddy again, and he glanced hurriedly up at Bill, wondering if it was too late to backpedal. Bill laughed out loud when he saw Teddy's face. "I'm joking, Teddy!" he said, and Teddy smiled nervously and concentrated on returning his heart to its normal pace.

"I knew that," he mumbled.

"Just slipped out, huh?" Bill questioned. Embarrassed, Teddy nodded. After a brief, amused glance, Bill said, "You're not the first." Teddy stared at him, but all he said by way of explanation as he pushed open the gate to his yard and ushered Teddy through, was, "Welcome to the family, Teddy."

Teddy smiled. "Thanks, Bill," he said.

And this is where our story ends. It began with news of a new job and it ends with news of a marriage. And while it would not be completely honest to say that Teddy lost all fear of the man who became his father-in-law, it _can_ be said that when his newborn daughter was placed in his arms for the first time, Teddy found that he could not blame Bill in the slightest.


	16. Awesome Easter Hunt

**Awesome Easter Hunt**

_(A George/Katie story)_

**by Mackgirl**

* * *

"What are you doing up here George?"

Fred and George's Awesome Easter Hunt_  
1. A pink egg from the kitchens__  
2. A Quidditch player's robes or broom (extra points if it's Charlie's, Oliver's or from a different house)  
__3. Something belonging to a Slytherin  
4. Snape's shampoo  
5. A book belonging to Percy  
6. A plant from the forest  
7. A Muggle object  
8. A stuffed animal  
9. Mrs. Norris  
10. Something from Filch's office_

Katie read the list she had been handed again and couldn't help but laugh. "Where did you find this?"

George grinned. "In our old room. Fred and I had written that in our second year over the Easter Holidays. We never did go on the Hunt though; Charlie ended up calling an emergency Quidditch practice and Fred tossed the list in his trunk. When we left school, neither one of us cleaned out our trunks, and I was upstairs doing that and found the list."

Katie sat the list down and turned to her husband, asking, "Why were you cleaning it out now?"

"I saw Freddie outside playing with the cousins and it dawned on me he would be going to Hogwarts next year. I know we can just buy him a new trunk over the summer, but I wanted him to have Fred's," George said.

Katie embraced George, and, when she pulled away, said, "I think that's a lovely idea, George. I'm sure Freddie would love to use Fred's old trunk, he loves getting things that use to belong to Fred."

George just nodded. "Anyway I thought you'd like to see that list."

Katie looked over the list again and suddenly smiled, "I have an idea George. Since everyone is here at the Burrow for Easter dinner, why don't we all pair up and have a scavenger hunt and see who can complete this list first?"

George stared at Katie, dumbfounded. "You do realize that the majority of that list is things that would have to be done at Hogwarts. And how in the world are we going to get Mrs. Norris and Snape's shampoo?"

"That's the fun of it. We'll restrict everyone to the Burrow and they'll have to get creative. The most creative will get extra points," Katie said. "Besides, the kids would love this."

George thought about it for awhile, then said, "Okay, just for the fact that I want to see what people come up with."

Katie's smile widened and together they walked outside of the Burrow, gathering everyone together. Once everyone was sitting at one of the tables outside, Katie spoke first. "In Fred and George's second year, they came up with a scavenger hunt list to fill their boredom over the Easter Holidays. They never actually used it though, since Charlie called an emergency practice and the list was stuffed into a trunk and forgotten about. George just found the list and we think it would be fun to have a competition with it. Everyone will get into pairs and each pair will receive a copy of the list. You have to find all ten items, you are not allowed to leave the Burrow, and the more creative you are the more points you will receive."

There was a buzz of excitement and Lily asked, "Is this like an Easter Egg hunt?"

"Kind of, Lily, but instead of just looking for Easter Eggs, you have to look for the things on the list," George said.

"James and I are partners!" Freddie shouted.

Katie looked at George. "Maybe the kids should be paired off with an adult. They probably won't understand what half the list is."

There were shouts of unfairness among the children when George said, "You're probably right; half the list is Hogwarts stuff from our days."

"Why don't I sit this out?" Mrs. Weasley said, "Then that way everyone can be partners with whom ever they chose and I can fairly explain stuff to anyone who doesn't understand what the item might be."

"I don't know, Mum, you went to Hogwarts ages before Fred and I did," George said grinning.

Mrs. Weasley huffed as her children and grandchildren laughed. "I'm sure I can figure it out." Mrs. Weasley said.

"Okay, Mum, you'll sit out and explain anything to anyone who doesn't understand the item listed," George said. "So everyone can pick their own partners, therefore I pick Katie!"

Soon everyone was paired off and Mrs. Weasley handed each pair a copy of the Scavenger list. "Okay, I will be the official judge and each item will be worth one point. There is one item that says 'extra points' by it and that will be worth two points. The first team back gets three extra points, second team back gets two extra points, and the third team back gets one extra point. I will also reward bonus points based on the creativity of the item. The team with the most points will win," Mrs. Weasley said. "Now on your marks, get set, GO!" Mrs. Weasley shouted and all the teams ran off in different directions.

George and Katie made a dash towards Arthur's tool shed. "We'll find the Muggle object in here. I say we get the easy ones out of the way first and then spend time on the other ones." George said as he picked up a plug. "What should we get next?"

"How about the stuffed animal?" Katie asked.

"I know just what to use for that one, follow me!" George said and he took off running towards the house with Katie following. They passed Ron and Harry, Teddy and Victoire, and Charlie and his wife Tonya in the process. Once inside the Burrow, George led the way upstairs and into his old bedroom.

"Look through these boxes. We're looking for a giant spider," George said as he ripped open the closest box.

Katie picked up a box as well and starting tossing items out of it. "Why do we need that one? There's a teddy bear on the dresser over there."

"Creativity, remember? Ron is afraid of spiders because when we were little Fred turned his teddy bear into one. Fred held on to it because he was going to give it to Ron's kids. It's in here somewhere; keep looking," George said, tossing his third box aside.

A few minutes later, Katie held the spider up in the air. "I found it!"

George came over to her. "Perfect, what's next?"

"Let's go get the pink egg from the kitchen, there's no way to be creative with that one." Katie said and they raced back down to the kitchens, passing Ginny and Hermione in the process and meeting up with Bill and Fleur in the kitchen. Once they had gotten their egg and Katie had magically spelled it pink, George and Katie went outside to look over the list again.

"What should we get next?" Katie asked.

"Let's head upstairs to Percy's room. He and Audrey are staying over tonight with their kids, and I think he brought his latest published report home to show off," George said. "Then we can go into Charlie and Bill's old room and tear it apart looking for Charlie's old robes."

As they headed back into the house Katie said, "Don't you still have your old Quidditch robes here? Let's just get one of those."

"Extra points," George reminded her.

After searching Percy's room for his latest published report (a task that Bill and Fleur, Charlie and Tonya and Ron and Harry were also doing – luckily George was the one to find it) they ran to Bill and Charlie's old room.

As they entered, they saw that Teddy and Victoire, Freddie and James, Roxanne and Lily, Joshua and Cody (Katie and George's other sons), Molly and Hugo, and Ginny and Hermione were desperately tearing the room apart.

"Think we'll luck out twice?" Katie asked, but George was looking in a different direction.

"Shhh. Why do you think Charlie's heading up towards the attic?" George asked.

Katie turned and caught a sight of Charlie and Tonya just as they disappeared up the stairs. "Let's follow," Katie said.

Once in the attic, George motioned for Katie to hide behind some boxes as he did the same. "No one knows they're up here Tonya, we'll be the only ones getting extra points for my robes," Charlie said.

"Shouldn't we take all of them with us?" Tonya said, "Just to be safe."

Katie and George watched as Charlie shrunk all his old Quidditch robes. "Good idea, Tonya. Come on, let's go."

As Charlie and Tonya walked past George and Katie, who were still hiding, George used a Summoning Charm on one of the pairs of shrunken Quidditch robes. Katie held her breath as she watched them float over to George who grabbed them, putting them in his pocket.

They waited a couple of minutes before leaving the attic as well, and Katie said, "Brilliant. I have an idea for Mrs. Norris."

"What is it?" George frowned, confused.

"Ever take a good look at the cat figurines in Ginny's old room?" Katie asked.

George shook his head. "No, why?"

"One of them looks just like Mrs. Norris," Katie answered.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Come on!" George cried, and they ran towards Ginny's room. After finding the figurine Katie had mentioned, George added it to his pocket with the rest of the items.

"Let's head up to the bathroom," George suggested.

"Got an idea for Snape's shampoo?" Katie asked.

George nodded. "We'll grab a bottle of shampoo and change the label so it reads, 'To insure extra greasiness, use twice a day.'"

Katie grinned and gave George a kiss. "Let's go. We just might be able to win this."

After the shampoo bottle had been charmed to read something else, George looked over the list again. "I have no ideas for the Slytherin thing, but let's head back up to the attic."

As they made their way back up the attic stairs, Katie asked, "What are we getting up there?"

George grinned. "A filing cabinet."

"A what?" Katie asked, bewildered.

"A filing cabinet," George repeated. "A few weeks after Fred's funeral, Filch sent Mum a filing cabinet. It's the one that was dedicated to just Fred and I."

"I thought you only had an entire drawer to yourselves," Katie said as George began to shrink the cabinet.

"We did, up until our last year. In that one year it went from a drawer to an entire cabinet," George said, grinning. "Every misdeed we ever did is in there."

"Why in the world did he send it to your Mum?" Katie asked.

He shrugged. "No idea."

George added the filing cabinet to his pocket. "Any ideas for these last two?"

Katie smiled. "Well, my mom was in Slytherin."

George turned his head, looking at her. "She was? I never knew that."

"It's not something I like to brag about," Katie said. "Anyway I just happen to be wearing her earrings right now; I borrowed them a few weeks ago and haven't given them back yet."

"Well, take the bloody things out." George said, "That just leaves a plant from the forest."

Katie handed the earrings to George as they began discussing what they could possibly get that would have been in the forest. "Any ideas?" Katie asked.

"Maybe," George said. "Come on, let's head out to the garden."

They ran out of the house and into the garden. Once there, Katie said, "Look, those flowers are native to the Forbiden Forest, Sprout told us in Herbology once."

George plucked a couple of the flowers, "I'll take your word on that."

"We have everything don't we?" Katie asked.

George went over the list and nodded, "Come on let's go."

Together they ran back to where Mrs. Weasley was sitting. "Let me see your items, I'm afraid you're fourth back though."

As George handed his mother their items he asked, "Who was first?"

Freddie and James grinned, "We were and we are going to win!" Freddie said.

"Dad and Uncle Ron were second, and Uncle Charlie and Aunt Tonya were third." James added, "Doesn't matter though, we got lots of items that will let us get tons of extra points."

Soon everyone was gathered around and Mrs. Weasley was finishing adding up all the points. After several minutes she announced, "I have the results, Ron and Harry you came in third place. George and Katie are second, the extra points they got for the filing cabinet and Ron's transfigured bear pushed them ahead, but not enough to win."

Everyone was quiet as they waited for Mrs. Weasley to announce the winner, "I am proud to announce that the winners took the instructions well, getting the most creative items total. Not only did they bring Sirius Black's old motorbike from Grandpa's shed, they got what I'm told is the Marauder's Map. Harry, I hope you take care of this and make sure it doesn't end up in the children's hands again, especially if it really does what I'm told it does."

"Sorry Mum," Harry said. "It was locked up, but I'll make sure to lock it up better this time." He was glaring at James, and George couldn't help but laugh.

Katie elbowed her husband. "What?" he asked.

"You know very well that James was going to give that to Freddie to use," Katie said, scowling.

George smiled. "I can't exactly tell him not to use the map. After all, Fred and I gave it to Harry."

"And Uncle Fred and Uncle George stole it from Filch's office." James said, overhearing the conversation. "I'll get it back, though."

Mrs. Weasley did not seem amused by the conversation. "Now I completely disagree with this last item, but I have to admit it was creative and no one else thought of doing this. Most people charmed a shampoo bottle to say something about Snape. Freddie and James, however, went one step further and therefore are the winners of the Scavenger Hunt."

"What did they do, Mum?" Ginny asked.

Mrs. Weasley held up a bottle of cooking oil, sporting a new label that read, "Snape's Special Hair Care."

Everyone gathered burst out laughing except for Percy, who was starting a lecture about doing underage magic. "Where did you two get a wand to do that?" George asked his son.

Freddie grinned and held the wand they had used to his father. "We found it in the living room on a shelf."

George took the wand and looked it over. Katie looked as well. "That was Fred's, wasn't it?"

George nodded, turning back to his son. "That was Uncle Fred's old wand. If you want, you can have it back when you're heading to Hogwarts. Unless, of course, you want a new one."

Freddie didn't even bother to respond; instead he shouted, "I GET UNCLE FRED'S WAND! I GET UNCLE FRED'S WAND!"

"That's enough, Freddie, or you won't be allowed to use it," Katie said, and this shut her son up fast.

Later that night as George and Katie lay in their bed, George said, "I've never known anyone who would get excited about using something that hadn't been theirs first."

Katie smiled. "It's because we've all made Fred into this superhero image, and to the kids he's like a god."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," George said as he kissed Katie goodnight. Katie just nodded; she felt the same way.


	17. Riches

**Riches**

_(A Molly/Arthur story)_

**By Bad Mum**

Molly sighs as she looks at her list and wonders what she has forgotten.

_Easter eggs x7_

_Wool for scarves for the twins' birthday_

_Bludger for the twins' birthday (bad idea??)_

_New shoes for Ginny_

Not a huge list, but it will stretch the budget further than she likes. _And _the kids will expect at least an ice cream as reward for being dragged around the shops. In an ideal world, Percy should have new school robes - his are far too short. But it is _not _an ideal world and he will have to wait until after the summer. Bill will have left school then, and Percy can have his old ones. She is trying not to think about the fact that Fred and George will start at Hogwarts in September, and even if they have Charlie's grown-out-of robes, there will not be enough for both of them, and they will need wands, and two sets of books…

She has no ambitions to be rich, but not having to struggle all the time, and make every Sickle count, would be a luxury.

She wonders if Arthur has remembered the significance of today's date. He usually does, but he said nothing about it when he left for work that morning – but then he hadn't said much at all, because she was so cross about him having to go into work on Easter Saturday and leave her to handle the shopping and the children on her own. He probably thought it was best to keep quiet and get out quick.

She closes her eyes and lets her mind drift. Twenty-three years ago today. She was fifteen and a half, Arthur just sixteen. Both of them younger than Charlie is now. Their first date – if you could call a walk round Hogwarts grounds on a windy Friday night a date. But Arthur had brought chocolate, and given her flowers, and it _felt _like a date. Twenty three years… It should seem like a long time, but she feels not a lot different from the love-struck fifteen year old who didn't quite believe that Arthur Weasley could be interested in her. How she has got to be old enough to have a grown-up son and another who nearly is, not to mention five other children, she isn't quite sure.

Reality intrudes abruptly on her daydream. The kitchen door bursts open, and the twins tumble in, dragging Ginny between them, and followed by Ron, who spends most of his life trying to keep up with them and never _quite _managing, and Percy lagging behind in an effort to make it clear that he is not with this unruly bunch of hooligans.

"Are we going yet?" demands Fred – no, it's George – in a voice that makes it sound as if they have been waiting to leave for several hours, rather than barely fifteen minutes since lunch finished.

Molly sighs and pulls herself to her feet. "Yes, yes, we're going," she says. "Where are Bill and Charlie?"

"We're here." The back door opens, and Bill and Charlie come in, laughing at something, the draught from the open door sending their mother's shopping list onto the floor. Charlie picks it up, and frowns as he reads it.

"You know Bill and I can do without Easter eggs, Mum," he tells her quietly as he hands the list back. "And that is definitely a bad idea for the twins' birthday – but they'll love it. D'you want me and Bill to buy it for you? You won't have a clue what you're looking for."

"Would you mind, boys?" Molly asks, smiling up at her two eldest sons. She still finds it disconcerting to have children who are taller than she is, and it won't be long before Percy is as well. "Can you take a twin each in the Floo, you two? Ron can go with Percy, and I'll take Ginny."

"We can go on our own!" Fred proclaims indignantly.

"After the last time you Flooed on your own?" Bill demands, looking very much the elder brother and the Head Boy combined. "I don't think so…"

The shopping trip has gone remarkably well, Molly thinks, as she sips her coffee gratefully in Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour. (Though she still thinks of it as Giovanni Fortescue's, as it was when she first came here with Arthur. She cannot believe little Florean is old enough to be running it now. He must be over thirty she supposes – yet one more thing to make her feel old.) Bill and Charlie have disappeared to Quality Quidditch Supplies to get the Bludger for Fred and George's birthday; she managed to buy the wool without anyone realising what it was for; and she got the Easter eggs (seven of them, despite what Charlie said earlier) while the children were looking at the owls in Eeylops' and deciding which one they liked best (although Ginny was more taken with the litter of kittens at the back of the shop). Even shoe shopping for Ginny was not as bad as it might have been – she only had to try on eleven pairs before they found one that fitted, which is probably some kind of record. Now the children are eating ice cream, and once Bill and Charlie get back, they can go home. Perhaps she and Arthur might even manage to go out for a drink – a meal would be nicer, of course, but finances will not stretch to it – once the younger children are in bed.

But, of course, something was bound to go wrong. A shopping trip with the whole family in tow could never be so simple…

"Where's Ginny?" Bill asks, as he and Charlie arrive back, Charlie surreptitiously dumping the parcel from the Quidditch supply shop among the others at his mother's feet before the twins notice it.

Molly wakes from her reverie with a jolt, and does a quick head-count. Bill and Charlie standing beside her; Percy sitting quietly at the far end of the table; the twins scraping the last morsels from their ice-cream dishes; Ron scowling at Fred who is obviously kicking him under the table; Ginny… Where is Ginny?

She is on her feet and looking in panic around the ice cream parlour. Ginny was here only a minute ago surely? Where can she have gone? Could someone have taken her? Bill is at the door, looking up and down the crowded street. The other children have just realised something is wrong, and are standing up. Ron has started to cry. She doesn't feel far off it herself. Where has her baby girl gone?

Charlie's arm is round her shoulders, and his voice is reassuring. "Calm down, Mum. She can't be far away."

But Bill is coming back, shaking his head, looking concerned. "Can't see her," he reports. "But it's too crowded to look properly from here."

Florean Fortescue has bustled over to see what is wrong. Charlie explains quickly.

It is remarkable how quickly people organise themselves in an emergency. Within minutes, there is no one in Diagon Alley who does not know that a small girl with red hair and new blue shoes has gone missing. Bill and Charlie are out searching, and have roped in every other Hogwarts student they can find to help. Percy has been taken upstairs by Florean Fortescue to Floo his father at the Ministry. Florean's assistant is plying Molly with strong coffee and keeping a stern eye on the twins and Ron, who are highly indignant at not being allowed to go out and look for their sister.

Two hours later, what had started as a simple search for a missing child that would take only a few minutes, has a grimmer more purposeful feeling to it. Molly, her face streaked with tears, is still sitting in Fortescue's, talking to an officer from Magical Law Enforcement. This cannot be happening. It just can't. Arthur, white-faced and with his mouth set in a stern line, has joined the other searchers. The family photo from his desk has been taken away so that the part with Ginny laughing on Bill's shoulders can be enlarged for the "Have you seen this child?" posters and flyers which are already being distributed along the Alley and to the parts of Muggle London beyond the Leaky Cauldron. (MLE have arrangements with the Muggle police for occasions such as this.)

Percy, the twins and Ron have been swept off by Andromeda Tonks – "I'll take them, Molly. You don't need to worry about the other children now" – Fred and George unnaturally quiet, Ron staying very close to Percy, as if his brother's proximity will make his sister reappear. Bill and Charlie are out looking. As the time goes on, they find their friends' hands on their shoulders more frequently, voices saying: "We'll find her," more often, as it becomes less and less likely that they will.

There is not a cellar or an attic in Diagon Alley that has not been turned out. Even the deepest passages of Gringotts have been explored, though no one seriously believes a child could have got in there without being noticed. Muggleborn witches and wizards, who can blend easily into the Muggle streets, have gone beyond the Leaky Cauldron to hunt. People are still searching, although they are running out of places to look.

In a dark doorway at the far end of Knockturn Alley, a little girl is huddled, trying to make herself invisible. She has escaped the grabbing hands and the mocking voices – "What's a pretty like you doing here, my love?" – through sheer speed and determination inspired by terror. The ginger kitten that she spotted through the window of Fortescue's and chased along here is long gone, back to its mother. She wants to go back to _her_ mother, but she does not know how to get there. She clings to the hope that Mummy or Daddy or one of her big brothers will find her. They always have before. She holds onto the hope tightly, gripping her hands together as if it is a physical thing. She will not cry.

The searchers are now congregated at the top of Knockturn Alley, but there is an argument going on.

"Only those of you who are of age," a Law Enforcement Officer is insisting to the crowd of Hogwarts students, to a chorus of groans.

"Dad…" Charlie pleads. "She's my _sister_. Please…"

"Okay, you can come, Charlie," Arthur concedes. He is not about to waste time arguing when his baby girl is out there somewhere. "But you stay with me or Bill. And none of the rest of you who are underage." He glares at the other students. "I'm not being responsible for anyone else losing a child."

There are muffled protests, but the younger students admit defeat, turning back to search again in Diagon Alley in places that have been looked in before, in the hope there is a corner they have somehow missed. Some of the Muggleborns venture through the Leaky Cauldron to the streets beyond, taking others with them. None of them are about to give up and go home. Not while Bill and Charlie's kid sister is still missing.

The others head off down Knockturn Alley, which is unnaturally quiet, the usual sellers and hawkers hiding behind locked doors, knowing that something is going on, worried about being accused of something. The searchers split into twos and threes, some hammering on doors, others bursting into shops they would not normally dream of entering, still others poking about in alcoves and side alleys. Bill and Charlie, wands in hand, make for the far end of the alley, looking in every doorway as they pass, desperate for a sight of Weasley-red hair. They are not talking. For both of them, this whole day has taken on a surreal quality. They cannot do without Ginny. They have to find her. They just have to.

"Bill! Charlie!" A small hurricane with fiery red hair hurtles from a dark doorway and flings herself into Bill's arms. His wand goes flying as he lifts her up and swings her round, laughing and crying at the same time. Charlie joins in the hug, and then retrieves Bill's wand from the gutter, using it to send gold sparks high into the air – the agreed signal for "Found!" and _hang_ the laws about underage magic out of school. (He used Bill's wand – if anyone asks, they will say it was Bill who did it.)

Their father is there in less time than seems possible, pulling Ginny from Bill's arms and holding her close. Knockturn Alley has never known so much laughter and sheer noise. Ginny is borne back to Fortescue's in triumph in her father's arms, Bill and Charlie on either side, hanging onto any bit of her they can reach, not about to let their sister go now that they have her back.

Molly, predictably, dissolves in tears at the sight of her missing daughter, and has to be dosed by Poppy Pomfrey, who has appeared from somewhere, with strong coffee and firewhisky. In dribs and drabs, the searchers make their way to the ice-cream parlour, and Florean and his assistant are rushed off their feet providing coffee and ice cream – "On the house, of course!" Florean proclaims expansively – for everyone. Someone Floos the Tonks' house, and the other Weasley children return, the twins and Ron – in perfect agreement for once – executing a kind of triumphant war-dance around their parents and Ginny, and Percy disgracing himself by bursting into such a storm of tears that he has to be taken outside by Bill until he calms down.

The impromptu party goes on for a long time, long after the shops have closed and the gaslights are lit. Ginny, exhausted by her adventure, falls asleep across her parents' laps, her hand holding her mother's even in sleep. Molly leans gratefully against Arthur, looking down at Ginny's chubby fingers encircling her own.

They may not be rich, but she has everything she needs.


	18. Harry Hunting: An Easter Version

**Harry Hunting: The Easter Version**

_(A Harry/Dudley story)  
_

**By Sorla  
**

People sometimes compare the world to a stage, like all our lives were individual plays set up to amuse a yet unknown audience. Life can also feel like an entirely separate universe and something simple as connecting to other people can be as difficult as pushing through unknown boundaries we can't see, smell or touch.

If you really wanted to wax poetical about it, you could compare our lives to Easter eggs. Some look more like small Fabergé eggs while others are mass produced in cheap cardboard. They're all full of surprises, some enjoyable, some unexpected and some downright nasty. How they look and what's inside them doesn't matter though, it's only the people that gives them to you that really counts.

Easter eggs were something Harry Potter knew about in theory. He could identify one on sight and tell you in no uncertain terms what was supposed to be inside. Yes, that would be candy, or possibly a small gift of some kind. Even though he had all this gathered expertise Harry Potter was sorely lacking in hands-on experience with Easter eggs. It wasn't because his parents refused to partake in something so silly, and thought that people encouraging children to believe in an Easter rabbit was not only morally wrong but also sinful. No, it was because Harry Potter lived with his aunt and uncle. They were two people that never really caught on to the fact that industrialization and the following improvement of standards had made it unnecessary to treat unwanted relatives like lepers. Flesh and blood didn't mean anything if it came with a side-order of magic. Not that they told young Harry this, of course. For him, this was simply the way life was.

He was their responsibility, but by golly, they didn't have to enjoy it. They had their own child to think about. Dudley Dursley. A more handsome boy there had never lived, according to his mother. His father would simply grunt proudly whenever he was mentioned. Dudleykins could do nothing wrong. This meant that marginal attention was wasted on the brat, one Harry Potter. Gifts were the exception, not the norm and Easter eggs were never even considered.

So Harry's Easter egg seemed to be of the cardboard variety, and sorely lacking in delightful surprises. You could even say that he didn't have one, since no one had ever given him one. An Easter egg that is, though having a life was in part questionable too. Harry Potter had an existence.

But you can only feel the lack of an Easter egg at one time of the year, and fortunately it passed quickly. Unfortunately, you can feel the lack of that metaphorical Easter egg all year long. So when Easter arrived yet again, in the guise of sunny weather and clear blue skies, the now nine year old Harry Potter felt nothing but resignation. He knew that the hunt for Easter eggs were planned for this afternoon but if he could avoid Dudley entirely he would view that as an Easter gift as good as any.

Sadly, Lady Fortuna had turned her head away from him this day and his wish was not to be granted. Instead his aunt made him help her in the garden with the weeding. Everything had to look perfect for Dudders little gathering. Harry wondered how one woman could squeeze so much dislike into one voice at the same time merely because she had to talk to him. Also, he sincerely doubted that Dudley's friends would be poking around in Petunia's flower beds. Unless she hid the stupid eggs there, the flower beds would be safe and totally overlooked.

After weeding and watching Petunia worrying over the dark clouds slowly creeping up on the horizon he was sent inside to scrub himself clean. Wouldn't do to let any of the neighbors have anything to gossip about. Harry would take part in the great Egg hunt. Keeping up appearances wasn't only a lifestyle for Petunia; it was an effort on par with the Olympic Games.

Harry didn't complain, he never did. When complaining gets you nowhere, or possibly an unspecified amount of time inside a dark, cramped cupboard, you soon learn not to complain.

A little after three o'clock, Dudley's guests started to arrive. They were wearing white shirts and sturdy jeans, some with combed back hair, some with their usual untidy hairstyle. Some of them brought parents, some didn't. No one said anything to Harry, he could have been a part of the furniture for all the attention he was given.

The little party proceeded along the lines of almost every other get together. Give the children some sustenance and then throw them outside while the grownups drink their coffee in the living room. Fortification in the coffee is optional, letting the children stay inside isn't. They needed the fresh air and the exercise, the little dears. There was no special reprieve for Harry; he was shoved outside with the others.

Playtime would precede the Easter egg hunt so Harry decided to make himself scarce until anyone who actually cared for his whereabouts would come outside.

Not unexpectedly Dudley soon tired with playing nice with his guests and Harry could hear his voice echoing menacingly in the small yard.

"Harry, Harry, Harry! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

The thought that he had no intention of leaving his current hiding place had to be tempered with the fact that his current hiding place was behind the tool shed. Not even Dudley would fail to look there.

"Come on everyone, let's find Harry!"

Harry could hear his cousin's voice, and if he had been a little further along in his mathematics studies he could have ventured an educated guess on how long time it would take for eight boys to locate him in an area covering about seventy square meters. As it was he merely counted the seconds it took for someone to find him.

56 seconds. Impressive, Dudley really chose his friends based on their lack of brains.

"He's here, Dudley!"

It was Piers Polkiss that found him. He sneered at Harry like he was looking at something disgusting.

Dudley came running up, out of breath after a couple of minutes of exercise.

"Did you think you could get away, eh?" The words were supposed to come out menacing, but even Dudley's cronies could have told him that threatening people while being out of breath was not especially scary.

"Why would I want to get away when there's an Easter egg hunt coming up?" Harry tried for flippant but didn't quite get there. He wound up sounding mostly unsure of himself.

This time even Dudley sneered.

"Like you're getting an Easter egg, you're just a worthless freak."

Somehow, this seemed to be the agreed upon code word because all of his friends suddenly started closing in on Harry. One small, scrawny boy inside a ring made up of bullies. If it would have been roses, or even mushrooms, it would have been the stuff of folksongs. Now it was just an everyday sight, even if it was a horrible one.

Harry hunting was always more sporting when it actually involved some kind of hunt, because then he had a chance of getting away. Unfortunately, running away wasn't an option when you were behind a human wall of nastiness so Harry decided to take option C instead. Running away was always first priority while option B was to face it bravely. That didn't always work. In fact, it almost never worked. Option C had therefore been devised. Close your eyes and hope for the best. It sounded silly, even to him, but it actually worked from time to time. Sometimes it was as if they forgot about him and wandered away, and sometimes they started looking confused and made it possible for him to slip away unnoticed. Not to mention the most extreme time when he had somehow found himself up on the school roof. It had made his uncle very angry, but he would rather be shouted at any day then be beat up in school yet again.

This time, when he closed his eyes and hoped for the best, help came from an unexpected direction. Petunias voice could be heard throughout the garden, and probably in to the neighbors as well.

"Children! Time for the Easter egg hunt!"

Once again it had to be said that it was a testament to Dudley's friends and their lack of intelligence that none of the eggs had been found before this. Harry had spotted three since he stepped outside and he couldn't honestly say that it was because he was clever. The hiding places were easily detected. Then the great hunt for candy and sugar rushes began and children ran back and forth in the garden. Harry sidled back behind the shed and hoped that his absence would go unnoticed until it was time for everyone to leave.

After an uninterrupted half an hour behind the shed it looked as if he was successful. He could hear parents and children calling goodbye to each other and decided to take a peak just to be sure. The garden was empty so Harry decided he could sneak in to the house and stay in his cupboard for the rest of the evening. When he was halfway to the door he noticed something colorful in one of the drainpipes. He padded closer to confirm that his discovery really was an Easter egg. It was safely ensconced in the drainpipe so Harry decided to coax it out. Maybe there really was an egg for him, only no one told him? Even if it was purely for appearances sake Harry was prepared to accept it, he had never received an Easter egg.

Harry cradled the egg close to his chest and continued towards the slightly ajar front door. Since he was quite intent on the Easter egg, he never noticed Dudley walking towards him from the side.

"What have you got there?" Dudley's voice rang out close to Harry's ear and made him spin around to face his cousin.

"A leftover Easter egg."

"Give it to me" Dudley held out a pudgy hand for the egg.

"No, you already have an Easter egg." All the things he really wanted to say to his cousin were choking in his throat so that this semi-polite thing was the only thing that came out. He should have known that a "no" wasn't what Dudley was expecting. He also should have guessed that the fist Dudley planted in his face was, in fact, inevitable.

-

He had a black eye and a bruised pride. Other than that Harry Potter was doing just fine, thank you. He didn't think it was cold at all, and the rain hardly bothered him. He would stay outside as long as he could get away with it. Dudley was a stupid bully and he didn't want to spend any more time close to him than necessary. He sheltered beneath the pitiful excuse for a tree in the backyard and scuffed his sneakers in the dirt. By the time he had a quite respectable mound of dirt in front of his feet he was interrupted by a rustle in the bushes. Since he actually felt cold and was more than a little bothered by the rain he startled and turned towards the sound before he could control himself. Bravery was hard to maintain when the evening came rolling in, so he was relieved when it turned out to be a grey cat. Harry picked it up and cuddled with it, he was more than willing to exchange the warmth for the uncountable cat hairs sure to stick to him like glue. Then there came another rustling from the bushes behind him. This time he didn't startle, but he did tighten his grip on the cat, which it strenuously protested against. He tried keeping his arms around it, but had to give it up after a small scratch and lots of angry meowing. When he finally turned around to see the source of the sound there was nothing there. Except… There was something glinting on the ground. He left the meager protection of the tree and ventured closer to the bushes. He dropped down to his knees to study the glinting object in closer detail. It proved to be a small gift wrapped box. Thinking it must be a remnant of the hunt Harry picked it up, and then almost dropped it when he saw his own name written clearly on the attached note.

Normally Harry might have passed it off as a joke or a mistake and brought it inside the house but right now his eye was hurting, he was soaking wet and freezing cold. Anything that could alleviate his feelings of discomfort was fine by him. He carefully unwrapped the gift paper only to be confronted by a beautiful box. Harry folded the paper and put it in his jeans pocket for safekeeping and then he reverently opened the box. If the box had made him forget about the fact that he was outside in the early spring about to catch his death from pneumonia it was nothing against the gift inside. It was probably the most beautiful Easter egg Harry had ever seen. It was emerald green with tiny dragons and seemed to be glowing from the inside. It was slightly larger than his fist and he couldn't imagine who would give him something so marvelous. It almost seemed magical. Harry examined it from every angle and then satisfied himself with holding it in his cupped hands to be able to admire it properly. It was better than any physical fire or shelter because it made happiness burn inside him and rain totally irrelevant.

The wonders didn't cease there though. Since there was a fine line running across the middle of the egg, Harry, who was after all only a boy, and a young one at that, decided to see if it would open, like most Easter eggs do. He carefully tugged at the two halves, more careful than he was when handling real eggs in the kitchen. Agonizingly slowly the two halves parted. At the last second he realized that if there truly was something inside the egg he couldn't open it while it was on one end. Holding it flat in one hand he gave a last tug and revealed a veritable treasure trove of candy inside.

When something amazing happens, the amazed person in question is usually stumped for words to describe what they're feeling. Not so Harry Potter, he would have described himself as surprised, for sure, but also very happy. Thrilled and delighted might have chased by but happiness won out, hands down. Harry was happy, because he had his very own Easter egg, filled with candy and goodwill. So on this rainy, cold April evening, Harry could feel like a part of his own play and feel like he filled up his very own universe. He had taken part in the great Easter egg hunt of life and decided that it wasn't bad at all.

Harry knew that he would have to go inside soon, and that it would mean the end of his first, amazing Easter egg experience. Still, for another little while he could pretend that it was spring, soon to be summer and that chocolate really could heal his every hurt.


	19. Of Fellytones, Cravings and Family

**Of Fellytones, Cravings and Family**

_(A Lily/James story)_

**By Heart4Happiness**

**1979 – The wedding of Frank and Alice.**

_**d a n c i n g**_

"… with a spinning dial. Those Muggles like to call it a _fellytone_! Imagine that, eh?"

She has never seen anyone more fascinated by Muggle inventions than Edward Perkins.

"Erm, yeah, I know that, I'm a Muggle-born."

"Never! My goodness, you must tell me about those clothes the Muggle men wear, _trousers_, I mean, what possessed them? They look like long undergarments, for Merlin's sake!"

"Yes, they do, don't they? Um… sorry, Edward, but I must go and find my husband, he said he went to get drinks but…"

"I believe you're looking for me?"

James appears from nowhere, grinning.

"No drinks, sorry love, someone seems to have spiked the punch. Just like old times, eh?"

"I… um..."

"Beg your pardon, Edward, mate, but I do owe my wife a dance, and if I remember correctly, this is one of her favourite songs. Happy Easter. Let's go, dear."

He whisks her away, straight onto the dance floor.

"Actually," he says, "there were several bottles of Butterbeer over at the drinks table. But then I thought, sod drinking, let's dance instead."

"Oh did you now?"

"Yes. Now," he says, taking her waist, "my shoulder?"

"You amaze me."

He winks cockily. "Glad to be of service."

**1980 – The Potter household.**

_**c h o c o l a t e e g g **_

This year, he presents her with the largest egg she has ever seen; elaborately decorated with purple wrapping and gold ribbon.

"Thank you," she says, "but it's rather big."

"Oh yeah," he replies, placing a gentle hand on his wife's rather impressive bump, "don't think I haven't noticed your craving. And… oh! A kick!"

Lily chuckled. "I suppose he's upset he doesn't get any chocolate."

"You still think it's a boy?"

"Without a doubt. I think it's a maternal instinct, and it must run in the family, because my mum knew I was going to be a girl. Although she did think my sister would be a boy, but that hardly counts, because…"

She is silenced with a kiss.

"I love you," he mumbles, kissing her neck, "but dear, you do tend to ramble on."

"I do?" she says, "I thought you love it when I talk."

"Course I do," he replies, "but that egg needs eating."

She smiles, leaning forward to unwrap her chocolate.

"Darling," he says, "please don't have one of your hormonal moments and start wanting something like _bacon_ with your chocolate."

"Bacon? Ergh, James, that is disgusting."

She pauses for a moment.

"But could you fetch me some ketchup?"

**1981 – The Potter garden.**

_**s p r i n g**_

The air is crisp and clean as the little family bundle themselves out into the garden.

"Look, Harry," says James, "it's spring, see? There's a little birdie in a nest; hello birdie!"

Harry, who is wrapped in many blankets upon his mother's insistence, laughs at his father and waves his arms around.

"He thinks you're stupid," says Lily, laughing, "don't you, dear? Yes you do!"

James pretends to pout, and bows down to his son, whispering, "Women, eh?"

"Oi, Potter," she slaps him playfully on the arm, "don't go giving him ideas. Don't listen to Daddy, he's being a prick."

Much to his wife's surprise, James smiles broadly.

"What's got you grinning like a fool?"

"Just…" he scoops up Harry, laughing, "I'm Daddy!"

"Well of course you are."

"Lily, don't you realise? I'm going to be a proper Daddy! I'm going to teach him how to fly and take him down to watch matches… he's going to be a Tornadoes supporter, I know it. He's got good taste, see. And then he's going to grow up a bit and go to Hogwarts; I suppose Sirius'll want to give him the map. And…"

"James, dear," says Lily, "that's rather far from here, don't you think? I mean we have to get out of all this rubbish first…"

"I suppose we do," he replies, frowning slightly, "but we _will_ get through this. Together."

"Together," she says, hooking her fingers around his, "I'd like that."


	20. The Treasure Inside

**The Treasure Inside  
**

_(A Draco/Astoria story)  
_

**By SilverDrama  
**

**i.**He's six and she's five. They're both pureblood, therefore friends.

"Mommy, what is this?" He asks his mother as he holds up a tiny and fragile egg.

"Draco, honey." He frowns a bit at her babying tactics. "That's an egg, its part of this Easter _egg_ hunt."

"Why do we hunt eggs?" He asks in a curious manner.

"Because inside of each egg," She takes the plastic egg from his small pale hands and opens it, "Is a treasure, or a treat." She pulls out Chocolate Frog and hands it to him.

"Now go hunt for more eggs with Teddy, Daphne, and Astoria." She tells him.

Draco nods his head as he runs back over to his friends.

For a while, none of the four were having any luck finding eggs since the older kids were faster, smarter, and keener. Then, Astoria –who'd run off in sight of an egg- came back holding an egg.

"I found one!" She squeaks in excitement.

Daphne rolls her eyes at her little sister, Teddy shrugs, and Draco smiles.

"I want you to have it." She tells him and she hands the silver egg to Draco.

He opens it and finds candy inside.

"Thanks Astoria." The little blonde girl smiles.

**ii.** They're ten and eleven; he's going to Hogwarts next year and she's left alone. He's her best friend, her other friends just roll their dull and lifeless eyes or shrug their shoulders at her; Daphne smiles at her; but Draco smiles _for_ her.

It's another Easter Egg Hunt. Most of the kids their age have grown bored of them by now, but not those two, no; they love the innocence of the hunt. The smiles, the laughs, but most of all, they do it together. Like two great friends.

He comes up to her, hands her a shining glittery silver egg. "Have it." He tells her.

She opens it and takes out the candy inside. "Thanks Draco," she says meaning more than the candy but in the actual friendship itself. _The treasure within._

**iii.** They're growing up. She's blossomed since the age of ten. She's blossomed from a sweet, innocent, and childish ten year old girl to a mature, witty, and sophisticated fifteen year _woman_. Or at least people try telling her that. Daphne tells her that her sweet old friend, the one who would hunt with her for Easter Eggs and smile _for_ her, that he's dabbled into the Dark Lord and Parkinson.

Astoria knows Parkinson. She's an annoying girl who could and does complain more than she thinks. A girl who wants Draco's name and wealth. And although she could say she cares for him as a friend, Astoria would know herself as a liar then. She's grown fond of her sweet friend over the years –too fond in the past few.

Astoria wants to calm Draco like before, but he's too angry, and she is hurt that Easter that year is just the same.

The years before had always calmed Draco to an extent. Even when he was drowned in other things, he would sit by Astoria at breakfast and recall one of their old hunts, especially the one when she was five.

This year is much different and Astoria isn't content. Draco is sullen, and refuses to be near anyone but Parkinson. Astoria takes in despair as she sees the smug face of Parkinson and the torn of Draco. Her old friend is lost for Easter.

Well, Astoria thought that way as she walked into the common room that day.

She found a seat in the common room next to Draco.

"Hi Draco." She says to him.

He turns, grey eyes, platinum hair, and all. "Astoria, great to see you again." He says in a nervous voice with little life and zest in it.

"You alright?" She asks him as she stares into his grey eyes, sorrow, and happiness together.

He shakes his head. "Yes."

"What's going on with you?" Astoria asks him, though she has a great idea of what's going on.

Draco clutches his arm. "Nothing, just small details."

Astoria is growing impatient and grabs his chin. "The Dark Lord isn't small."

"My chances of surviving are." He grimly says.

"You know it isn't true." Astoria says in a way that convinces Draco.

Draco nods. "What a ruined Easter." He notes.

Astoria giggles a bit and takes her left hand out of her pocket, pulling a small item with it. "Not exactly." She hands him the egg before tracing off to her dormitory.

**iv.** They're older now. She's twenty-two and he twenty-three. Finally getting over the scary night of the final battle, she blows her soft blonde hair out of her face as she watched her nephew toddle down the Nott garden.

"What an interesting Easter?" Draco whispers in her ear as she sets her nephew down and he runs to find an egg.

"Interesting." She says. "It feels like yesterday we were the little kids searching for eggs."

Draco nods. "We still can if you'd like," He tells her.

Astoria shakes her head and her brown eyes glimmer. "We're too old. Easter Egg hunts are for children." She tells him.

Draco shakes his head as he dips his hand inside of his coat pocket. "Easter Egg hunts are about finding the treasure and treat inside." He grins.

"And what will I find that treasuring in an egg?" Astoria asks him in a mocking voice. "Candy?"

"Something better." Draco whispers as he pulls his hand out of his pocket and hands the small egg to Astoria.

Astoria rolls her eyes as she opens it. "Candy is for little-" She's dropped in her own words as she opens the egg. She looks down at Draco; he's standing on one knee and she's full of anxious and excited feelings.

"Astoria Greengrass," Draco says, and the eyes of those who were at the Nott Mansion were on the two, "Will you do me the honor of being my true wife?"

Astoria gasps as she looks from sweet eyes of Draco to the diamond ring inside of the Easter Egg.

"Yes." She breaths and Draco kisses her.

**v.** "Dad," Scorpius Malfoy asks as he straightens his five year old self up, "What are Easter Egg hunts about?"

Draco smiles as he glances at Astoria. "They're about the treasure and treat inside."


End file.
